Of Arrogant Toerags and Rabid Redheads
by messenger of home-baked pie
Summary: James and Lily are polar opposites, yet exactly the same. One a Marauder, the other a Prefect, both brilliant and marvellous in their own right. Both, as Sirius Black might put it, complete idiots. Lily Evans finds herself inexplicably drawn to a changing James Potter. James finds it impossible to draw himself away from her. They were as similar and different as a stag and a doe.
1. A Good Day

A pile of dishes stared at Lily Evans, and Lily Evans stared back.

Her wand was feeling very heavy in her back pocket, but she didn't reach for it.

"Does she not know how to wash a dish?"

Vernon Dursley was very bad at whispering. Or maybe he wanted her to hear him, Lily couldn't say.

"She's not the greatest dishwasher," her mother conceded. Then, with a worried tone to her voice, she called, "Lily dear, you will wash those dishes, won't you? By _hand_?"

"Yeah Mum, I've got this."

Because she did, in fact, have this.

"Oh, you have an electric dishwasher?" Vernon peered into the kitchen, craning what little neck he had. The bushy caterpillar posing as his moustache quivered on his lip each time he opened his mouth.

"No," Mr Evans addressed Vernon for the first time that night. "The only automatic dishwasher we have is our Lily here." He gave a booming laugh that was definitely not his normal laugh, and stuck out his chest a little more than he already had.

Vernon seemed confused. "If you don't have an electric dishwasher, then why ask Lily if she will wash them by hand? I mean, how else would she wash them? Magic?" Now it was Vernon's turn to let out a booming laugh.

The Evans family all gave Vernon uncomfortable smiles. Except Lily, obviously. She was much too busy washing dishes and hating Vernon Dursley with everything she had.

Vernon cleared his throat, filling out the silence a little bit. "Well, I had best be off," he announced eventually, standing at his full height.

Mr Evans stood too, walked over to Vernon chest-first, and they shook hands. "That's a shame," Mr Evans told him with a straight face somehow. "What are we losing you to?"

"My sister, Marge, needs my support right now. She's going through a rather tough time."

Lily's mother's eyes filled with concern. "Goodness, what happened to her?"

"Her new dog, Terror, passed away."

Mrs Evans sighed and leaned back, shaking her head. "How awful. What was the cause?"

Vernon cleared his throat again.

"She sat on it."

Now _that_ put a smile on Lily's face.

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The pile of dishes was still not even halfway washed, but Lily didn't care anymore. Nothing could ruin her good mood.

"Marge killed her dog," she sang quietly. It was getting late, and her parents had already gone off to sleep. "Marge's dog is dead."

She was definitely in a good mood.

_I don't need help from filthy little mudbloods like her!_

"Terror got sat on, Terror got sat on, dah, dee, doo, dah, day."

_Lily, I said I was sorry a hundred times. You know I didn't mean it._

"For there once was a dog named Terror."

_Will I at least see you around before term starts? We can go to Diagon Alley together!_

"And Terror had a very good life."

_But we always go to Diagon Alley together! Lily, don't you see? This is exactly what Potter wants!_

"But my sister's boyfriend's sister killed him."

_Lily. Lily, please! _

"And soon she'll be his wife."

_Lily!_

She looked at her reflection in a plate.

"You know, Evans," she told the plate, "You're not too hard on the eyes."

She wiped the plate off, and looked at it again.

"Not too hard at all," she decided.

_Alright, Evans?_

Humming her little tune, she put the plate aside and picked the next one up.

"Terror got sat on, Terror got sat on."

Yes, she was in a very good mood indeed. After all, things could only get better going forward. So what reason could anyone possibly have to not be happy?

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"I am terminally ill," said Mr Potter.

James and Sirius stared at him in stunned silence.

"I found out two weeks ago."

He leaned back in his seat, and drummed his fingers on his desk. It was polished wood. Everything in Mr Potter's study seemed polished. It wasn't tidy by any means, with folders and memos and books strewn about the place, but there was some sort of order to the madness. The books were stacked, the memos were grouped alphabetically, and the folders were color-coded. A messy, yet polished system.

"W-What do you mean?" James eventually croaked. "Wizards don't get 'terminally ill', only Muggles do. There must be a mistake."

Mr Potter surveyed James for a moment from behind his desk. Sirius was still speechless.

"You're quite right, James. So then tell me how this is possible."

James stared at him hard, sitting forward in his seat. "Last month," he said slowly. "In the Prophet, it said you led a raid on the Goyle residence."

An encouraging nod from Mr Potter.

"Only one casualty," Sirius said quietly.

Mr Potter sighed now, and gave them both a sad smile. He ran a hand through his hair, messy and dark though peppered with grey. "You two are among the brightest boys Hogwarts has ever seen, I'd wager."

"Lethargic, weakened, no appetite," James listed off quickly, not listening.

"He sleeps for fifteen hours a day, one meal a day, with paling skin," Sirius added, matching James' urgency.

The two boys looked at each other, frowning.

"What are those symptoms?" James wondered.

"A variant of Spattergroit?"

"Can't be, the skin wouldn't pale. Could it be a curse?"

"I don't think so. The curse would have to be Dark Magic to be this strong, and the Goyle raid had no arrests."

"Don't bother, boys," Mr Potter cut in, taking his glasses off and inspecting them. "I was seen to by St Mungo's best, and they couldn't identify the cause."

"Is that right?" James stood suddenly and turned to Sirius. "Send word to Remus and Peter. Tell them to come immediately. I'm no potions expert, but I'll see what books we have in our main study and I'll brush up as best I can before they get here."

Sirius nodded and stood, too.

"_Boys_."

It was the loudest they had heard Mr Potter speak for a long time. Now that James thought about it, since he and Sirius had come home for the Summer his father hadn't raised his voice once.

"Boys, sit. Please."

James and Sirius were still for a moment, but after a quick glance at each other, they slowly took their seats again.

Mr Potter ran a hand through his hair again. Not for the first time, James was struck by how much it seemed like he was watching an older version of himself sitting behind that desk.

"I didn't tell you this just to have the four of you cook up some hair-brained scheme to help me." Mr Potter's tone was matter-of-fact, demanding the two boys to understand. "I'm beyond helping. This illness _will_ kill me before long."

"I'll find a cure," James said immediately.

Mr Potter snorted. "What a great idea. How did the St. Mungo's staff not think of that?"

"Lack of imagination, I'd expect," James hypothesized.

"We are quite imaginative," Sirius nodded.

Mr Potter sighed once again. "Don't waste your time. Please, if nothing else, don't waste your time, boys. With the talents and resources the two of you have, no, the _four_ of you have, you can make changes to the world the likes of which an old man like myself could only dream of. You're both young. You have whole lives ahead of you. Please don't waste your time."

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Sitting on the roof of Potter Manor, James was afforded a lovely view in the moonlight. The house-elves kept the garden maintained to perfection. Trees were sculpted into lions and hippogriffs and dragons, enchanted lanterns floated around the estate, shining yellows and golds and reds across the extensive lawn. It was a kaleidoscope of Gryffindor spirit and Potter-ness that James would never get tired of. He didn't like flaunting his wealth, but at times like these he couldn't help but marvel at it.

"I thought I'd find you up here."

It was Sirius. James didn't need to look. He'd really expected Sirius to find him before long, anyway.

"Hey, Padfoot."

Sirius sat down next to him.

They were quiet for a good few minutes. Sirius gazed up at the stars, searching for something. Whatever it was, he didn't find it.

"We could still do it, you know."

James knew what he was talking about, but he waited for Sirius to elaborate anyway.

"Find a cure, I mean. Moony and Wormtail would be here in a heartbeat, and you know there's nothing the Marauders can't do."

James waited a long moment before he answered. "It would be a waste."

Sirius hesitated. "A waste of time?"

A nod. "That's what the old man said."

They were quiet for another few minutes. Thinking and looking. Processing.

Predictably, it was Sirius who broke it again. "My dad, or at least my _biological_ one, once sat me and Reg down when we were kids," he said, his tone the sort one would use when talking about the weather.

James hadn't heard Sirius tell a lot of stories about his father, and listened with surprised interest.

"He told us 'The Grindylow without horns must be put down, its defect removed from the gene pool. Those _with _more are worth more.' I thought at the time it was a lesson about how to breed Grindylow. Turned out to be Pureblood propaganda."

James snorted. "Sounds like a real role-model."

"Yeah. Well, no, he was the worst. I'm well shot of him, mate."

"Right. And so your point was...?"

"Didn't really have a point," Sirius admitted. "Just thought I'd share it."

James didn't know what to say to that, and Sirius seemed to guess that James wasn't much for talking just then. James relished this silence, needed it, at least for a moment.

The red and gold lanterns seemed to paint the grounds of Potter Manor with a melancholy brush that night. Shadows and silhouettes popped out to James as he gazed across the property, bringing memories to the forefront of his mind, unbidden, that James wasn't particularly keen to delve into.

But delve he did. Into duels in the corridor, nights in the forest, beating Peter with pillows in the dorm room, and his own advances of one particular redhead.

Ideas collected in James' head. Less than ideas, really. More of just gut _feelings_. Feelings that he was doing it all wrong, somehow. That so far, he had only done the opposite of what his father had just advised: wasting his time. For the life of him though, he couldn't quite figure out why. He was perfectly happy with everything he did. Maybe he just wanted... more?

James hoped his best friend could make something of it all.

"Padfoot?"

"Mhmm?"

"We need to do better. _Be_ better."

Sirius said nothing.

"There's a war out there. And it's going to kill my Dad. Sirius, are we really going to spend our last two years at Hogwarts pranking First Years and cursing Slytherins? Is that the Marauders' legacy? Is that the best _I_ can do?"

Still nothing.

"Granted, I don't have any better ideas, but... you said it yourself. We're the Marauders. There's nothing we can't do. Right? So let's do... more."

It wasn't coming out the way he wanted.

"More how?" Sirius asked at last.

James grimaced. "I'm sort of just hoping we'll figure it out as we go. But surely for a start it can't hurt to, I don't know, be nicer? You know, to First Years, or Slytherins... and First Year Slytherins."

Sirius considered this for a moment, before responding.

"If a First Year is a snotty little brat-"

"Then we can prank them."

A pause.

"And Snivellus?"

James grinned. "I think we can still make time for an old pal like that, don't you?"

Satisfied, Sirius nodded. "That's all a Marauder can ask for, my dear Prongs. I'm all in. So what sort of mature rot are you thinking?"

A wry smile. "You should know, Padfoot old boy, that I don't think about mature things before I do them. Otherwise I'll just talk myself out of it."


	2. The Mark

"Five Galleons is a lot to pay for some owl treats," Lily mused to herself.

Eeylops Owl Emporium was mostly empty, but for a few sad saps who'd left their shopping for two days before term started. Lily, of course, bought everything she needed as soon as her letter came. Today she was simply killing time - Petunia had her nasty friends over, and Lily wasn't keen to spend the day with people she didn't like.

"You're right, Evans, that is a lot for some owl treats."

Lily jumped out of her skin, and turned around to find James Potter standing by her side, grinning his lopsided grin. She whacked him on his shoulder. "Potter! Don't sneak up on me like that."

He ignored her and continued walking down the aisle, examining owl treats like they were the most interesting thing he had ever seen. "Of course, I'm more of a Hippogriff person myself," he continued.

Lily narrowed her eyes and followed him along the aisle. She could see the smirk on his face as she trailed after him, but she didn't much care. "You can't send mail with a Hippogriff," Lily informed him.

"Of course I can, Evans. It would just take a little imagination. I could give the Hippogriff a big bag full of mail, and it could drop a letter off to each house through the chimney like Santa Claus."

Lily smiled, but was careful not to let James see it as they continued strolling down the aisle. James would bend or crane his neck to look at the various knick-knacks on the shelves while he talked.

"Or I could give the Hippogriff its own little satchel to wear, and it can go out on paper runs."

"You're ridiculous, Potter."

"I'm practical, Evans. Innovative. Brilliant, even. You see, a Hippogriff goes out and hunts for itself - you don't need to feed it, and therefore, you don't to spend money on it. Because, as a wise redheaded Prefect once said '_Five Galleons is a lot to pay for some owl treats_'. Isn't that right, Evans?"

Lily's smile grew wider. "Indeed it is, Potter."

They were quiet for a few moments, and not for the first time Lily was reminded that James Potter certainly had moments where he pleasantly surprised her. In fact, she found that she quite easily slipped into a companionable mindset around him - behaviour she was quite set on curbing.

"What are you doing here anyway, Potter? Or did you only come in to annoy me?"

James raised his eyebrows, amused. "I was in this shop before you. How did you not notice me?"

Lily gave him a sardonic smile. "Must be wishful thinking. I've gotten really good at pretending you're not in the room."

James' eyebrows rose even further, and he grinned. "Very impressive, Evans. Is that also how you've managed to pretend not to be madly in love with me this whole time?"

She gave an exaggerated nod and smiled far too widely. "Yes Potter, the truth is I find bullying tendencies and pig-headed behaviour extremely attractive, didn't you know?"

James nodded too. "I should've guessed - there had to be _some_ explanation for your friendship with Snape."

Lily's smile now, sarcastic or not, vanished.

The other students in the shop had stopped what they were doing to watch. They never wanted to miss a show between Lily and James, whether in Diagon Alley, the Great Hall, or the Gryffindor Common Room. The two of them could always draw a crowd.

Anger started bubbling inside Lily, and she narrowed her eyes at the boy. "You have no right to bring up my friendship with Severus, Potter. Especially considering you're the whole reason that that… _day_ even happened in the first place."

James, surprisingly, looked offended. "I've told you a million times, Evans. I'm not the one who made him say _that word_ to you. I levitated him in the air, showed people his mouldy underwear, so what? It was just harmless fun. He didn't get hurt, which is a privilege he would never grant me if the roles were reversed. And believe me, the roles are reversed plenty."

"You're trying to justify bullying, and you're doing a terrible job of it," she told him frankly.

James scoffed at that. "He's the enemy, Evans. All of them are. They hurt people, and they spread hate."

Lily saw Sirius Black enter the shop from the corner of her eye and approach them cautiously, but she didn't address him.

"So your solution is to do the same to them?"

"Well it certainly isn't to _help_ them, that's for sure!"

She narrowed her eyes at him even more.

Marlene McKinnon put a hand on Lily's shoulder. Lily hadn't even noticed her walk in. Her attention was fixed entirely on the messy-haired boy in front of her, who currently epitomised everything she detested in a person.

"Hate isn't what ends wars, Potter. Compassion, love, forgiveness-"

"Evans, if you try fighting a war with _love_, you'll be fighting it from under a tombstone."

"Excuse me?" she exclaimed.

"Lily, let's go." Marlene was shaking her shoulder now.

"Potter, you are the most arrogant-"

"-bullying toerag, yes Evans you've made that very clear." James rolled his eyes. "If you would just get off your high horse and listen, you'd understand what I'm saying. War isn't a game, Evans. And if you treat it like one, people you care about get hurt. Believe me, I would know."

"Okay, time to go Prongs." Sirius Black had his friend by the shoulder, too.

There were twice as many people in the shop now than there had been a few short minutes ago. Even the shopkeeper had stopped moving, instead watching them from behind the counter. The owl treats aisle was now filled with Hogwarts students, peering over shoulders to see what was going on.

"Ladies first," Sirius bowed to Marlene in the cramped aisle, gesturing toward the door with the hand that wasn't clamped around James' shoulder.

The onlookers in the aisle cleared out, giving room to these four of Hogwarts' most beloved students.

"Why thank you, Black." Marlene curtseyed. "We'll go left, you go right."

He tipped his head.

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"'It's no big deal, Padfoot,'" Sirius mimicked. "'I just want to get some owl treats, Padfoot.'"

James said nothing. The walk through Diagon Alley back to the Leaky Cauldron was long, and he fully expected his friend to rant the whole way there.

"'Let's be better, Padfoot. Let's be _mature_, Padfoot. Let's stop bothering Evans, Padfoot.'"

"I never promised that," James mumbled.

Sirius sighed.

The sky had been bright and blue when they'd left that morning, painting the ground with shadeless glee. At some point before they had entered Eeylops Owl Emporium, however, clouds began to gather in bulk, and by the time they left, those clouds were dark, and brooding, casting a veil of gloom over the ground.

It was like the heavens themselves were invested in James Potter's courtship of Lily Evans. Or at least, James quite liked the way that sounded.

"So you're still not over her, huh?"

Now James sighed. He should have expected the question, should have prepared a convincing answer. As it was, he had none. "I guess not."

They walked in silence for a few minutes then. James was glad for it.

If he was being honest, he really agreed with Sirius. All his talk from that other night really hadn't seemed to do much good. The thoughts that had run through his head that night were still prevalent in his mind. It was that feeling he'd had, that he still hadn't been able to convey properly to Sirius. And, he guessed, because he hadn't been able to articulate it properly, the matter only continued to weigh heavily on his mind, plaguing him constantly over the last couple of days. The feeling that he could do _more_.

James was annoyed with himself too, disappointed really, that he couldn't even have a _conversation _with Lily Evans. He had wanted to be better, much better than this, and he had thought that he was by now. But it seemed not.

Or perhaps, he supposed, it was just Evans' knack for exposing the worst in him.

"You couldn't even have a _conversation_ with her." If Sirius knew that he was just echoing James' thoughts, he didn't show it. Although James figured that he probably did. "Have a conversation with me, Prongs."

"I'd rather not."

"Go on. I'm Lily Evans."

"We're not doing this, Sirius." James picked up the pace, freeing himself of his best friend for a few moments.

"Of course we are." Sirius caught up to him and matched his speed. "Go on Prongs, do it."

James tried walking a little faster, but once again Sirius caught up. People in the street were hurrying now too, eager to get out of the open and back home before it started to rain. The clouds looked like they could burst at any moment.

James looked at Sirius and sighed, slowing back down to their normal pace, kicking a stone on the cobbled street in annoyance. "Alright, fine." Sirius grinned and clapped his hands as James continued. "We'll role-play this one time and never again. Got that?"

"Yes, yes, never again."

"Okay… Hi, Lily."

"Don't talk to me," Sirius snapped.

"What?"

"Don't talk to me, Potter."

"Oh, right. Um… How are you?"

"Did you not just hear me? I said don't talk to me, you arrogant toerag!"

"Okay, we're not doing this."

James picked up the pace again, power-walking away from his friend.

"Hey, I'm not done with you, Potter!" Sirius was chasing after him now, yelling at the top of his voice. "You arrogant prick! You self-centered arse!"

James broke into a run, sprinting down Diagon Alley at full throttle.

"Your glasses look silly! Quidditch is dumb! Snape is a better kisser than you!"

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"Who does he think he is?"

Marlene didn't seem to know, so Lily answered for her.

"He thinks he's something like Merlin's nephew and Dumbledore's grandfather rolled into one, that's who. But do you know who he really is?"

Marlene didn't seem to know, so Lily answered for her.

"A bully. Plain and simple. He's arrogant, selfish, and frankly not even that good looking."

"Well," Marlene piped up, "That's not strictly true though, is it? They don't give fan-clubs to the ugly ones, Lily. And James Potter is no ugly one."

Lily fixed her best friend with a withering glare. "That's when you choose to voice your opinion on this? To talk about how good-looking Potter is?"

Marlene raised her hands in defense. "I said nothing about him being good-looking, that was all you. But hey, now that we're on the subject, he is quite good-looking, isn't he?"

Lily rolled her eyes. Marlene had taken her on the longer way towards the Leaky Cauldron, presumably to avoid Potter and Black, but then it had started to drizzle, and soon after that it really started to pour down.

Now they were sat in Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. He had offered to let them use his Floo Network to get home dry, and they'd gladly accepted.

"Don't tell me you're part of his fan-club too, Mar," Lily grumbled with a roll of her eyes.

"Of course not Lily, I still have my pride."

"Good."

"I'm just saying, I wouldn't mind a roll in the hay with him either, you know what I mean?"

Lily stared at her. "No. I do not know what you mean, Marlene."

She was distracted from further dissection of her friend's attitude towards Potter by Florean Fortescue returning from the back room with a confused look on his face.

"Sorry girls, the Floo network seems to be down. I had a word with the neighbours just now and they appear to be having the same problem."

Lily looked at Marlene in despair. "So we're going to have to walk to the Leaky in this downpour?"

But Marlene wasn't paying attention. She was looking out the window with an expression somewhere between confusion and horror.

"Lily… Is that Bellatrix Lestrange?"

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Sirius had thankfully tired out quite quickly in the rain, and they walked in silence now. They weren't worried about getting a bit wet - one can't spend almost every full moon running around the Forbidden Forest with a werewolf and still be peckish about the rain.

James wondered if he would see Remus before term started in two days.

"Tomorrow is the full moon, right?"

Sirius grimaced. "Yeah. I really hate the nights when we're not there to help him through it all. Even right now he's probably bedridden already."

James nodded slowly. The brick wall that served as the barrier between the Leaky Cauldron and Diagon Alley was before them now, and a large crowd had gathered in front of it.

James and Sirius joined the back of the throng, and tried to peer over some heads to see what was going on. Pushing their way between people, they soon got close enough to get a good view of the wall.

And all they saw was a brick wall.

James looked at Sirius with furrowed brows. "What's the big deal?"

Sirius shrugged and turned to an excitable man standing near them. "Oy, what's going on?"

The man's eyes were wide and fearful. "The wall's not working. We tapped the right bricks, but it won't open up to the Leaky Cauldron. We tried all sorts of destructive spells, but nothing can break it. We're stuck here!"

James and Sirius stared at the man.

"So we're stuck in Diagon Alley," James said, still not getting it. "So what? I'm sure someone will be along soon to fix the wall."

The man looked at James like he was crazy. "We're all going to die!"

"What?"

"Have you not seen it?" he asked, a tremble in his voice.

James and Sirius shook their heads.

With a shaking finger, the man pointed to something in the air, behind them.

The boys turned around and saw it immediately. It was so big, one had to wonder how they hadn't noticed it in the first place.

In the sky, hanging among the clouds that James had observed suddenly appearing during the day, big and green and dark and terrifying, was a great big skull. A snake slithered out its mouth like a grotesque tongue and coiled around the emerald face poised above them all, staring down at Diagon Alley like a master would its subjects.

The Dark Mark.


	3. It's a Rat's World, Afterall

_Peter Pettigrew was the Head Boy of Hogwarts. He was also the Headmaster of Hogwarts._

_These two truths seemed at odds with one another, but Peter didn't question it._

_Ah yes, he was also the Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. _

_And he could transform into a dog. A black, shaggy dog. Definitely not a rat. _

_He was walking down the corridor and people would call out his name and wave and say hello._

_Then he was in the Great Hall and all his friends sat around him, listening to his crazy stories which were all true and exciting and very awesome. _

_Peter Pettigrew was very awesome. _

Then he woke up.

Peter didn't open his eyes just yet. Instead, he screwed them shut and tried very hard to go back to sleep.

"Give me the same dream, give me the same dream…"

He waited. Peter was a very good waiter. He felt like he'd been waiting his whole life.

Through his closed eyelids, he saw a flash of white light. Peter finally opened his eyes and sat up in bed. His room was dull and void of anything eye-catching. A bed, a desk, a floor, a ceiling, and a window just for a little bit of flavor.

Or at least, this was normally the case. When Peter opened his eyes that morning, there was something most definitely eye-catching sitting in his room.

It was a Patronus. A shaggy dog, blindingly white, that was all-too familiar to Peter.

"Pete, we need your help!"

It was Sirius' voice. He was speaking quickly, and Peter noted a tone to his voice that was very rarely present - that of fear.

"Death Eaters are in Diagon Alley. Prongs and I are trapped here, there's no way out. The brick wall's locked somehow and the floo-network is down. Someone tried apparating just now and he left half his body behind. It really smells, Pete."

Peter jumped out of bed and scrambled around on the floor for some pants as Sirius continued talking.

"The Dark Mark has been cast. We don't know who's dead or how many, but there's every chance it's not over yet. Prongs reckons this is the big one."

Peter tugged a ripped pair of cargo pants on and pulled a black sweater over his head. Then he jumped over his bed and reached for his wand.

"I've sent a Patronus to Remus as well, but tomorrow night's the full moon and I doubt we'll get a whole lot from him right now. You're the only one who can help, Pete. Here's what I need you to do. I need you to-"

Sirius' voice cut off. There was a noise that sounded worryingly like a body hitting the pavement. Then, its message sent, the shaggy white dog faded into nothingness, leaving Peter standing in his room, holding his wand, without the slightest clue what he should do with it.

Peter stared at the spot the dog had been, and frowned.

"I need you to… lie in your bed and go back to sleep."

He paced from one end of his room to the other.

"No," he realized. "I don't think Sirius would say that."

He paced faster. Surely that meant his brain would work faster, too.

"I need you to sit in your room and do nothing. I need you to go to the shops and buy some milk. I need you to count to one thousand really quickly."

He sighed loudly and flopped down onto his bed.

"Sirius wouldn't say any of those things."

_I've sent a Patronus to Remus as well._

"I bet he sent the Patronus to Remus before he sent it to me, too."

Although, Peter had to admit to himself, even if that were true, he couldn't exactly blame Sirius. An urgent message had come for him to save his friends' lives, and what was he doing? Lounging about in his bed.

What would Remus do?

Well, that was simple. Remus would analyze every single word of what Sirius had said. And then he would probably go to the library.

_You're the only one who can help, Pete._

How on earth was he the only one who could help? Did Sirius need someone to eat some Chocolate Frogs? Then sure, Peter's his guy. Did Sirius need someone to laugh loudly at a joke he told? Then absolutely, Peter could do that. Did the Marauders need someone to press the knot at the bottom of the Whomping Willow to freeze it?

Well, Peter rationalized, that one doesn't quite count. He could only press the knot on the Whomping Willow because he could fit into really tight spaces as a rat.

Peter bolted upright. Yes, rats could fit into some _very _tight spaces, couldn't they?

"I'm the only one who can do this," he intoned.

The traditional means of getting into Diagon Alley were blocked. But how many people could crawl through the sewer? Enter through the drains? Had anyone ever even tried to enter through the drains?

There were two things Peter knew for certain.

The first was that he needed to be a little braver. He pulled off his black jumper, opened up his packed suitcase, and held his Gryffindor sweater in front of him.

Yes, he decided. That would do just fine.

The second thing he knew for certain was that he would need the help of someone much more talented than himself if he wanted _any_ hope of pulling this off.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Frank Longbottom was a perfect human being. He had the body of a Greek god, a beautifully chiseled face, more brains than Peter knew how to measure, and was impossible not to get along with. With Peter's best friends out of action, he was the natural next-in-line.

"Pete?" Surprise lined the flawless features of the soon-to-be-Seventh-Year. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Peter wrung his hands anxiously on Frank's doorstep. "Hey, Frank. You seen the news?"

"About Diagon Alley? Yeah, I have. Scary stuff. Come in, come in." He opened the door wider and let Peter in. "You want anything? Pumpkin Juice, Chocolate Frog?"

Peter walked through to the lounge and collapsed on an armchair. "Chocolate Frog sounds great, Frank, thanks."

"You got it, mate. Back in a sec."

Frank left the room. Peter closed his eyes and massaged his temples.

This was it. Something big was going down.

No James, Sirius, or Remus. It was all resting on Peter. Peter didn't often have anything resting on him. Sometimes Sirius would rest his legs on Peter's shoulder when he sat behind him in Transfiguration. One time Peter had half an assignment left to him when he was partnered with Lily Evans for Charms. She had ended up doing all the work, to nobody's surprise.

Now here he was, already hatching an impossibly crazy plan in his head and putting together a team to fight Lord Voldemort. It was usually 'You-Know-Who', but Peter was so pumped up with Gryffindor spirit that it seemed ridiculous not to say the name in that moment. Or at least to _think_ it.

"So what's up, Pete?"

Frank dropped some Chocolate Frogs on Peter's lap, and sat down on the sofa adjacent.

Peter took a deep breath before answering. "Frank, James and Sirius are in Diagon Alley right now. They need our help."

Frank's jaw dropped. "Merlin, Pete. That's… Merlin, that's _terrible_." He clapped his hand. "Alright, I'm in. What do you need me to do?"

Peter looked Frank in the eyes for a long moment, and knew he'd come to the right person.

He reached into his pocket, and put two items on the coffee table in front of them.

"Cigarette lighters?"

"Deluminators," Peter corrected.

Two red Deluminators sat on the coffee table. As lighters, they had been bought at a Muggle supermarket, and the cheap, plastic bodies had been scratched and chipped from usage.

"An invention of Dumbledore's."

Frank looked impressed. Peter couldn't guess why, he hadn't even told Frank what they did yet.

"Dumbledore gave you these?"

Peter gave a small smile. "Not quite. James and Sirius found Dumbledore's model lying on his desk one night, last year. They'd been told to wait in his office for him and touch nothing, but you know James and Sirius. They're not good with instructions. It took a while, but eventually we managed to more or less replicate Dumbledore's model in these two beauties in front of you."

Frank was staring at the devices. "What do they do?"

Peter hesitated. "It's complicated. Dumbledore's model can remove and restore all light sources within an area."

Frank looked dubious. "Can you show me?"

Peter wrinkled his nose. "These ones don't actually do that. We didn't manage to crack that part of the spell."

"Oh."

"Yeah. But Dumbledore's Deluminator has one other trick."

Frank perked up again.

"James and Sirius couldn't figure it all out, but there is some really complex magic around it regarding apparition. The way it works actually breaks the _rules_ of apparition. You know The Three D's?"

"Destination, Determination, Deliberation," Frank quoted at once.

"Right. Um, wow, great job. Well, the Deluminator breaks the rule of Destination, in that you don't need to _know _your destination."

Frank took a moment to process that, then nodded slowly.

"So," Peter continued, "The question had to be asked: what other rules does it break?"

Frank looked at Peter sharply.

"Are you telling me one of these can get us into Diagon Alley?"

Peter, even though he had been unable to offer any help to James, Sirius, and Remus when they had cast the spells, nodded smugly. "Diagon Alley, Hogwarts, you name it."

Frank's jaw dropped, and he laughed in amazement.

"There are only two problems: firstly, even though they ignore anti-disapparition jinxes, they still notify the caster the instant it happens. Secondly, Dumbledore is a far more powerful wizard than even James and Sirius. He only needs one Deluminator to make it work. _These_ are a set."

"So…"

"So the holder of one of these can only apparate to wherever the holder of the other is. That's all we've managed to get them to do."

Frank raised his eyebrows. "_That's all_? Pete, this is amazing! And by fifth years no less!"

Peter scratched his head, feeling awkward. "Yeah, I suppose so."

"Deluminator_ indeed_." Frank sounded delighted. "Alright Pete, we're doing this. I'll go get Alice from her place, and-"

"What? No."

"No?"

"No."

Frank looked put out about this, and seemed like he was about to argue the point. Then he paused and turned to Peter, confused.

"James and Sirius don't happen to have another one of these on them, by any chance?"

And here it is, Peter thought to himself. The hard part.

"Nope."

"And you said we can only apparate from one of these to the other?"

"Yep."

A pause.

"I don't get it, Pete."

Peter took a deep breath.

"I can get into Diagon Alley. By myself. And I can't take anyone with me."

"How?"

"Can't say. I'll carry a Deluminator with me, and when I-"

"Peter, how can you get into Diagon Alley by yourself? What's the deal?"

Peter hesitated, and then put a hand on Frank's shoulder.

"Frank, this will only work if you trust me. I can't tell you how I'll get in, so don't ask. Alright?"

Frank surveyed Peter for a few moments, and then nodded slowly. "Alright, Pete. While you're doing… whatever it is you're doing, I'll get in touch with Dumbledore. Maybe even Moody, if I can manage it. Then-"

"No."

"No?" Frank asked again, more than a little confused now.

"Frank, I don't know how to put this. The way I intend to get into Diagon Alley is illegal. Very illegal. The type of illegal that might make our Headmaster and the Head of the Auror Department a _little_ unhappy with me."

Frank stared for a moment. "Okay, Peter. I didn't want to have to do this, but… I'm going to be Head Boy this year. I got my letter the other day."

"Oh. Er, congratulations?"

"Thank you. Now, Pete, if you don't tell me what you're hiding-"

"I change my mind. We'll bring Alice, too. Let's go."

"I will- wait, really?"

"Yep, let's go Head Boy."

"Right, yeah. Let's go."

Peter grabbed his Chocolate Frogs, took the elbow his Head Boy offered him, and one excruciating moment later, they were outside someone's house.

It was evening by this point. The moon was already visible in the sky, a day away from being full.

"Are you sure you even want her to be a part of this, Frank? This is going to be extremely dangerous."

Frank laughed at this as they walked up the driveway.

"Alice is a better duelist than _I_ am, Pete. I'd be an idiot not to want her help." Then he looked at Peter with somewhat of a troubled expression. "Not to mention, this is my last year at Hogwarts. She'll be Sixth Year with you guys, but this is my last year to win her over. I'm not even sure she knows I _exist_."

Peter gave Frank an amused look as the Seventh Year stepped up to the door.

"You're literally best friends, Frank."

"But still…"

Frank knocked on the door with an anxious look on his face.

Peter stood to the side and smirked as he watched the anxious expression turn into a gleeful one when the door opened.

"Hey, Alice! Wanna go bash some Death Eaters?"

oOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Peter, Alice Prewett, and Frank huddled together on the corner of Charing Cross Road. Not far from them, they could see the Dark Mark in the sky. Below that, who knows what awaited them.

The muggles took no notice of what was in the sky. Peter was no expert, but he supposed that they probably couldn't see it. If that was the case, it was awfully considerate of You-Know-Who to make it that way.

In Peter's head, he noted his internal omission of the name - of the 'V' word. He was running out of steam.

"Okay," he said, looking at Alice and Frank seriously. "Here's the plan."

He pulled out a ball of red yarn.

"I enchanted this. You guys take one end and wait here. In theory, it will stretch out indefinitely, so you only need to hold it. When I'm ready for you guys to apparate in, I'll enchant it to turn green."

Frank nodded.

"You know Peter, you really are a very talented Wizard," Alice said kindly.

For some reason, this only made Peter feel worse.

"Well, I'm glad you feel that way Alice."

She nodded and smiled.

"Now, an alarm will likely go off the moment you apparate in. You need to be prepared to fight for your lives from the moment you arrive. Got that?"

"Yarn, apparate, dangerous," Frank ticked off. "Got it."

"Good. Keep the Deluminator on you. Seriously, do not lose it. The boys will kill me."

Frank and Alice nodded again.

"Alright, and…" Peter searched for something else to say, and recognized that he was stalling. "I'll- I guess I'll be off then."

And with that, he turned on his heel and walked to the corner of the road.

"Pete," Frank yelled before he turned off.

Peter turned back.

Frank grinned at him and gave him a thumbs up.

"Don't die on us!"

Peter saluted, and turned the corner.

The moment he was out of sight, he leaned against the wall and threw up.

"I'm going to die," he realized out loud. "I'm going to die, I'm going to die."

He threw up again, and spat the rest out.

It was raining quite heavily. He only just noticed. He was already soaked.

Peter looked down into a puddle.

In the puddle, he couldn't see any tears in the eyes of his reflection. He couldn't decipher whether his expression was panicked or not.

All Peter saw was the Gryffindor jersey.

"Where dwell the brave at heart," he muttered to himself. "Brave at heart, brave at heart."

He pushed himself off the wall and power-walked further along Charing Cross Road. The Leaky Cauldron was up ahead. It looked like it was full - several Witches and Wizards were gathered outside it, trying to look in, being all too conspicuous in the process.

Peter ignored them and walked further on.

He reached a manhole on the side of the road. There was moss growing on the rim, and around the finger-holes in the middle. Peter screwed up his nose, got a firm grip on the damp plate, and pulled it all the way out with one heave.

Before he could overthink it, he dropped his legs into the hole. Then he placed an arm on either side of the road, and slowly lowered himself down. When he could lower no longer, but still couldn't touch the bottom, Peter had one last moment of indecision. The rising smell almost brought more bile up his throat while he hung there. He couldn't do this.

_You're the only one who can help, Pete._

He could do this.

He reached with his left hand for the cover of the manhole, and manoeuvred it back into place without losing his purchase.

Then, with one last deep breath, he let go.


	4. That Battlefield

_The day before the Defence Against the Dark Arts Owl, James Potter was sat in detention._

_Sunlight filtered in through the gaps between the curtains, lighting up some of the desks, and keeping the rest shrouded in darkness. James was sat near the back, at one of the shady desks._

_He was the only student in detention. His task had been to wipe ink off the tops of the desks without his wand, but Sirius had lent him his own, so he'd finished the job within thirty seconds. _

_He could have left, but he knew someone would come to check on him at the end of the hour._

_He could have still left anyway, as he really didn't care, but he happened to know who that someone would be._

_Right on cue, the door opened behind him, and in walked Lily Evans._

_She strode to the front of the room as though about to teach a class, glancing at the spotless desks as she swept by them, and then she turned and surveyed James with a hand on her hip._

"_We both know you didn't clean these desks by hand, Potter."_

_James raised an eyebrow and leaned back in his seat. _"_Ah, Evans. You always assume the worst of me."_

"_And you very rarely surprise me."_

_James grinned._

_oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO_

Peter burst onto the streets of Diagon Alley as a rat, scuttling out from the end of a drainpipe.

With a stretch and a squeeze, the rat transformed back into a fifteen-year-old boy, and he took a moment to get his bearings, plucking the red thread he'd pulled through the sewer from out of his mouth.

"Easy," he panted.

Peter stood in the middle of the empty street for a moment, glancing around for any movement. Then, Peter caught a whiff of himself on the wind and gagged hard, struggling not to throw up for the third time that day. As a rat, he hadn't cared what he'd been sliding around in down there, but now that he was a human covered in all sorts of unspeakables, Peter was finding it a lot harder to cope.

No alarm had gone off, which was a great relief. He was definitely in no state to fight a Death Eater.

Although, Peter mused, where were the Death Eaters? Where was anyone?

The street was empty, and devoid of any sign of movement whatsoever. He couldn't signal Frank and Alice to come yet - not until he knew exactly what the situation was. It would have to be at the perfect moment, as the anti-disapparition jinx would set an alarm off the instant they appeared.

Setting off at a light jog, Peter cut from alleyway to alleyway, looking for something - anything. The silence was starting to unnerve him.

Then, he heard voices. A lot of voices. They were coming from somewhere close, too.

Peter followed the sound, down a sidestreet, through another alleyway, and his jaw dropped as he reached it.

"You have got to be joking."

Where once a collection of shops had been, now only rubble stood, as though it were an ancient ruin of what had once been an entire section of Diagon Alley. So many familiar streets had been levelled down to the ground and cleared away, creating a huge clearing comparable in size to the Great Hall.

Gathered in this open space that had been a bustling shopping complex only a few hours prior were all the residents of Diagon Alley. Peter recognized shopkeepers in this crowd, students, families, all huddled together and muttering amongst themselves. They were covered in dirt, hugging loved ones tightly, or standing in groups and talking with panicked expressions.

Peter estimated roughly two hundred of them in all, but he was not a very good counter.

Ahead of the crowd, a podium had been erected atop a house. It wasn't fancy really, just a wooden platform pitched a few metres above a chimney, but it was high enough to denote power over the crowd, wordlessly heralding those who were really in charge.

Death Eaters stood on this podium, looking down at the crowd jeeringly. Sort of jeeringly, at least. It was difficult for Peter to tell behind their masks. Although, the masks themselves were quite jeering in nature, so there was that.

Peter guessed there were about twenty Death Eaters standing on the podium, and a further thirty spread out at ground-level around the crowd, caging them all in.

Peter searched the crowd from where he stood, trying to spot James or Sirius, but knew it would be futile to do it from a distance. He laid the red thread down near a rubbish bin in the alleyway, in such a way that he could easily find it again later.

Then, with a squeeze and a stretch, he was a rat again.

Peter scurried along the cobbled stone ground, reaching the crowd quickly and having to make sure not to get stomped on or squashed or killed once he got there. He weaved in and out of the collection of shoes attached to legs, trying his hardest not to die

Peter stopped when he heard familiar voices.

"-do you mean, Potter?"

He followed the source as best he could.

"I mean exactly that, Evans. Back-up is on its way. I have faith in my friends."

A scoff.

"You realize Black was spotted unconscious, right? There's every chance he didn't get the message out in time. What makes you so sure?"

Peter found them. James and Lily. Sirius seemed to be missing-in-action for the moment, but Peter was confident he would find him.

"I have faith in my friends," James repeated stoically.

Though rats could not smile, Peter certainly tried to at that moment.

"The Death Eaters have been smart," James continued. "By gathering everyone like this, they essentially hold us all hostage. If we try to fight back right now, innocents will be put in danger."

Peter, having been about to transform, paused at this.

There were a few things for him to consider. Firstly, as a human he would reek of sewage waste, attracting the crowd's attention to himself and causing a scene. He couldn't risk it.

"You know Potter, you're not altogether stupid."

Secondly, what James said was very true. Peter couldn't call Frank and Alice in recklessly.

Not with all these people here.

"Can I get that in writing, Evans? We can _shock_ the Death Eaters to death."

A small laugh.

"Yeah, Potter. Get up on that podium without dying, and let me know how that works for you."

Like a bolt of lightning had hit him, Peter was struck by inspiration at Lily's words.

He scurried back out of the crowd, navigating his way through all the legs, re-entered the alleyway, and a moment later he was a human again, crouched behind a rubbish bin. He pulled his wand out and cast another enchantment on the red thread he'd laid there.

"This better work," he muttered to himself.

In ninety seconds, it would turn green by itself now, and Frank and Alice would apparate into Diagon Alley wherever Peter decided to place the Deluminator. And he now knew just the place.

He pulled the Deluminator out of his pocket, and a second later he was a rat again. He picked the Deluminator up with his mouth, biting down as hard as his little rat-teeth could. Then, he scuttled out of the alleyway again, weaved in and out of the crowd's legs once more, and before long he came to a stop in front of the Death Eaters' podium.

He took a deep breath, bringing in as much air as a rat's lungs could hold.

There would be no going back once he was up there.

With his mind made up, he scampered up the tiling of the house that the podium sat on top of, and reached the podium itself with twenty seconds to spare by his count.

Death Eaters, dozens of them, stood around Peter on the wooden platform, but none of them noticed a rat. No one ever really did.

Peter dropped the Deluminator from his mouth by one of the Death Eater's feet and, his work done, he stayed put and just panted. From his vantage point up there, Peter could make out James and Lily's faces in the crowd. He also spotted Florean Fortescue, Ollivander, Madam Malkins, and a bunch of his fellow students. The Death Eaters were still jeering down at them all.

It all fit perfectly, Peter figured.

In fifteen seconds, Frank and Alice would apparate onto this podium.

The alarm would go off, and the Death Eaters would be thrown into disarray. Instead of cursing into the crowd, they would be cursing at each other, trying to hit the intruders. Frank and Alice would be prepared for it, too. Peter had told them it would be the fight of their lives from the moment they appeared in Diagon Alley.

And it was only Death Eaters they had to worry about.

They could do this.

With ten seconds until Frank and Alice would appear, the crowd suddenly grew deathly quiet.

This confused Peter greatly. He whipped his little rat head from side to side, trying to spot the problem. He could feel something. A _presence_ of some sort, the likes of which he'd never felt before.

Footsteps. In all of Diagon Alley now, no noise could be heard other than this single pair of footsteps.

Treading so lightly, so uncaringly, that the sound somehow radiated with effortless power.

In five seconds, Frank and Alice would apparate onto the podium.

Then Peter saw him.

Bone-white skin, robes as black as death, bloodshot eyes filled with hate, he walked like he had all the time in the world, and looked at each person like he knew their most intimate detail, and their most intimate detail repulsed him. Red and black and hate and suffering leaked from every pore of his body, and he basked in it.

Though Peter couldn't see it from the podium, the red thread in the alleyway was now green.

Frank and Alice would appear on the podium at any moment.

And standing atop the very same podium was Lord Voldemort.

_oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO_

"_That's not true, Evans."_

"_What's not true?"_

_She sat on a now-spotless desk at the front of the room and crossed one leg over the other._

"_I surprise you all the time. Remember that time I jinxed your hair blue?"_

_Lily narrowed her eyes. _"_Was that before or after I jinxed all _your_ hair off?"_

"_Just before, I believe."_

"_Then yes, I do remember it Potter. Congratulations."_

_She gave him a sarcastic smile. James' grin grew wider._

"_What about my birthday present for you? Remember that, Evans?"_

_Lily's smile faded a little. _"_You snuck a pair of Severus' underwear onto my pillow."_

"_Surprising, eh?"_

"_Surprising, but not funny, Potter."_

"_Aw, come on, Evans. It was all in good fun."_

"_No. It was fun for you, though Merlin only knows why you find playing with Severus' underwear _fun_."_

"_Evans-"_

"_Potter, you could be so much more, don't you see that? You're talented, funny-"_

"_Merlin Evans, my eyes are up here."_

"_Oh, shut up. I'm serious, Potter. Don't you ever stop and think that maybe you could be doing… more?"_

_James frowned. _"_No," he lied. "I'm top of the year, and everyone loves me. What more could I need?"_

_Lily didn't have an answer for that._

"_I mean," James continued hesitantly, "What would you have me do?"_

_Lily raised an eyebrow at him. _"_Surprise me."_

_oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO_

Peter watched Lord Voldemort stand over the masses, and he knew he would never again witness such an effortless display of power and menace. He was frozen in fear and shock and terror, and he couldn't look away.

Voldemort looked down into the crowd, peered into every pair of eyes there, and whatever he saw pleased him.

"Do not fear," he said slowly, in a high, cold voice that reverberated through Peter's bones. "For all those with magic in their blood, rejoice. I am not here to kill, or to harm, and if my followers have done so, it was not by my command. You have magic. You have _value_."

He waited a moment, as if to let this sink in.

"Today, Diagon Alley will be cleansed. It will be purified. So if you have the truest blood in your veins, _rejoice_. But more than this, what has happened here will be a statement to the rest of the world."

He raised his arms and spoke up, as though celebrating.

"Diagon Alley has been taken, with no resistance. I myself did not lift a finger. You all simply accepted it. It was you, all of you, who have shown the world today that Lord Voldemort cannot be resisted. Lord Voldemort cannot be denied. You have shown to all those out there with clean blood coursing through them that in your hearts, you know your rightful place is at the top of this world. There is nothing that can oppose our power."

Peter was sure the crowd would clap. Certain of it, in fact. Before this could be tested, however, it happened.

The Deluminator on the ground started glowing, pulsing with brightness like a little heartbeat.

Then, a blinding flash of light hit the podium, and the crowd, the Death Eaters, and Lord Voldemort himself had to cover their eyes.

_Pop_.

"Stupefy!"

A Death Eater went flying off the podium.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

Another Death Eater dropped to the ground.

The light cleared, and everybody uncovered their eyes.

Frank Longbottom and Alice Prewett stood atop the podium, back-to-back, eyes narrowed.

"Incarcerous," Alice bellowed.

Ropes flew from Alice's wand and hit a Death Eater, binding around him tightly and bringing him to the ground.

"Confringo," Frank yelled, pointing his wand at another Death Eater.

Lord Voldemort flicked his wand, and Frank Longbottom's wand-arm twisted at a sickening angle with a loud _crunch_. Frank dropped his wand and screamed.

"Frank!"

Alice barely had time to look at Frank before she saw another Death Eater point a wand at her from the corner of her eye and she was forced to look away again.

Frank watched Lord Voldemort point his wand at him once more.

"Bleeding _shit_," he cursed.

Frank let his mangled arm hang loose and dived to the side, landing by a Death Eater who had been advancing on him, and with his good arm he grabbed the Death Eater by the waist and hauled him down to crash on the ground.

He snatched the Death Eater's own wand and, rising up to full height, pointed the wand at Voldemort with his left hand.

"Stupefy!"

His aim was off, and the jet of light brushed within an inch of Voldemort's face.

The crowd down below, which had been shouting and screaming since Frank and Alice's appearance, went silent and still now.

Everyone on the podium, even Voldemort, stopped moving. They all watched that jet of light, having come so close to hitting The Dark Lord, careen off into the air and fade into nothingness.

Then all eyes turned to Voldemort.

Voldemort's gaze bore into Frank with an unreadable expression.

Frank gave him a cheeky grin.

"You wanna take a step to your left and let me try that again?"

Lord Voldemort slashed his wand through the air, and Frank Longbottom's eyes rolled up into his head, and he hit the ground face-first.

"Frank," Alice screamed again, running to him now.

Another slash through the air from Voldemort, and Alice swayed in the air for a moment, and then hit the ground beside the Head Boy.

The Death Eaters still standing lowered their wands, letting out collective breaths.

In all of this, Peter Pettigrew remained completely still, not even daring to breathe. No one had payed the rat any attention. He was alive. Safe.

But guilt coursed through his mind like a sickness.

He had brought Frank and Alice into Diagon Alley. Gone to their houses and asked for their help. And when they had needed him, when they had been in the fight of their lives against Lord Voldemort, he had stayed put, and let them be crushed.

Peter didn't move a muscle, still.

Lord Voldemort turned to face the crowd.

Peter could see James and Lily at the front of the crowd now. He had no doubt that they had been pushing their way through, trying to make it to the podium in time. They stood with identical expressions on their face as they looked up at Voldemort. It wasn't hate. It was determination.

"Proof of my appreciation for magical talent," Voldemort pointed to Frank and Alice's bodies, addressing the crowd loudly, "is that these two children are still breathing."

Relief mixed with Peter's guilt, now. They were alive, at least.

"They will make valuable additions to my followers, I am sure. They only need a little… convincing."

A few Death Eaters chuckled.

"In fact, you all will demonstrate your willingness to serve, right now."

Voldemort took a moment, seemed to stare into the soul of each member of the crowd individually, before he spoke again. "_Kneel_."

The Death Eaters all dropped to their knees. The people in the crowd weren't as readily compliant. They all looked at one another with hesitation on their faces. The question in their minds was obvious. Really, what harm could it do to simply kneel?

Do it, Peter pleaded silently of two people in particular. Just kneel. _Please_.

"It is not a difficult request," Voldemort said quietly, though there was no doubt that everyone heard him. "And I will not ask twice."

That was enough for the crowd. As one, they slowly knelt to the ground before Lord Voldemort.

Of course, there were two exceptions, and this didn't surprise Peter in the slightest really.

James Potter and Lily Evans stood before the podium, alone but for each other, their figures seeming to cast light over the crowd behind them, and they gazed up at Lord Voldemort with fierce determination.

Now Peter was galvanized into action. Voldemort didn't notice the rat scurrying along the platform. Peter didn't even know where he was scurrying to, or what he intended to do. Only that he had to do something.

He would _not_ let James and Lily fall victim to Voldemort. Of that one thing, Peter Pettigrew was certain.

"If you are trying to be another little pair of heroes-" Voldemort started.

James Potter lifted his wand, pointed it at the podium itself, and yelled something.

The wooden platform beneath Peter splintered and exploded, and the rat went flying into the air. Peter heard shouts and curses and the whistling of flying shrapnel as he soared off the podium amidst all the falling debris.

Then, he hit a wall, and fell to the ground.

_oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO_

_James mulled Lily's words over for a moment._

"_Turn around, then," he said eventually._

"_What? What for?" Lily raised her eyebrows at James from her perch atop the desk._

_James sat forward in his seat and grinned again. _"_You want me to surprise you, right? Turn around, Evans."_

_She frowned at him and considered his request for a few seconds, and then swiveled about on top of her desk to face the other way._

"_Now walk to the blackboard and tap it with your wand."_

_She looked back at him in confusion._

"_Just do it, Evans."_

_Dubiously, Lily hopped off the desk and walked to the blackboard. She stared at it for a moment, and then tapped her wand to it sharply._

_As if an invisible person was drawing on it, chalk lines suddenly arced across the board with long flourishes. More and more lines of chalk were added, giving shading, outlines, and incredible detail to the picture that was slowly taking shape. By the time it was over, Lily had her hand over her mouth in amazement._

_It was a Snitch, drawn in painstaking detail over the length of the blackboard, fluttering its wings just as rapidly as a real one would and bobbing up and down in front of her. _

_And in the middle of the drawing, inscribed upon the Snitch itself, were the initials 'L.E'._

_She turned back to stare at James with wide eyes, speechless._

"_So yeah, I didn't have time to scrub the desks by hand," he said, messing up his hair as he spoke. "I've been pretty pre-occupied for the last hour."_

_Lily laughed softly. _"_James, it's… it's beautiful."_

_He had to resist the temptation to say "So are you"._

"_Yeah," he said instead. "Surprise."_

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Under any other circumstances, if he had woken up to see the green eyes of Lily Evans gazing down into his own with concern, James would have simply stayed put and accepted that he was in heaven.

As it was though, he bolted upright in a state of panic.

"Voldemort," he gasped. "Frank, Alice, podium-"

"Potter. _Potter_," Lily said forcefully, placing a hand on his shoulder and making him look at her. "Shut up."

James stared at her face for a moment, waiting for his mind to settle. Then, he began to take in his surroundings and glanced around quickly. They were sitting on cold, stone floor in a dark, damp, and musty room. He couldn't make much else out in the darkness - at least not until his eyes adjusted.

He did see two familiar faces a few feet away, though.

"Oh, hey Frank, Alice," he greeted casually now. "Glad you're alive."

Frank grinned at him through the darkness. "Morning, sleepyhead."

James gasped. "Is it really?"

Frank nodded seriously, but Alice sighed and swatted his arm.

"It's still evening, James," she told him. "And thank you. I'm glad we're alive, too."

Lily nudged his arm and James looked at her. "You've been out for a little over an hour. Some falling debris hit your head pretty hard, I was worried you might have brain damage."

James smirked at her. "And would that have saddened you terribly?"

She deliberated over this for a moment. "Well, I'd feel a right bit worse about putting you in detention going forward, that's for sure."

James beamed at her. "So even with brain damage, I'd still be breaking the rules?"

"Of course," she nodded with no hesitation. "Some things never change."

James wagged a finger at her. "Ah, but other things do, my dear. After all," he continued a little quieter, "I have been known to surprise you."

Lily looked at him quickly, and a small smile crept onto her lips.

Frank cleared his throat awkwardly.

"So… aren't you going to ask what happened while you were out cold?"

James looked at the Head Boy sharply.

"Right. Well, what happened?"

The Head Boy nodded towards Lily, leaning back and resting his palms on the ground behind him.

"Lily was the only one of us conscious. She explained it to Alice and I already, but I have to say, I'm little confused. I want to hear what you have to make of it."

James nodded and looked at Lily expectantly. She was still staring at him oddly, and shook her head before she began to speak.

"Well," she started, "After you _blew up_ the podium, you got a few good hexes out too before you were knocked out. I managed to drag you to where Frank and Alice had fallen among the debris, but from there we were stuck - I couldn't drag all three of you."

"You should play Quidditch, it helps tone the arms," James suggested. "We have a couple spots open."

"Shut up, Potter. Anyway, once the remaining Death Eaters got up from the rubble, they surrounded me pretty quickly. Between the lot of them _and_ You-Know-Who, there wasn't a whole lot I could do. I was sure he'd kill all of us, but… he didn't. He got someone to restrain us, and said he'd deal with us later. He said he was impressed. Impressed that we defied him or some obnoxious rubbish like that."

James frowned a little and nodded.

"Then they took our wands and we were brought here. This is the cellar of one of his followers, I think. Middle of Diagon Alley. They dropped us through a trapdoor in the ceiling somewhere. Frank and Alice woke up an hour or so later, and you were not too long after that. I just don't get why we're still alive - because we _impressed _him? Pretty dumb reason, to be honest. Does he spare everyone who impresses him? Because that just sounds like a bad business model for a Dark Lord."

When she was done talking, she, Frank and Alice looked at James quizzically.

James didn't say anything immediately, looking deep in thought.

"When was the last time you were in touch with Moody?" he asked Frank eventually.

Frank looked surprised at the question. "Few months ago, I guess. Why's that?"

James hesitated before answering. "This is strictly confidential," he said, looking each of them in the eyes. Once he got three nods, he continued. "Moody believes Voldemort is recruiting Hogwarts students to be Death Eaters."

The three of them frowned at James following this.

"I'd hardly call that confidential, James," Frank said after a moment. "Everyone knows there's a bunch of wanna-be Death Eaters at Hogwarts. So you're saying Voldemort thinks he can recruit us?"

James nodded. "Imperius, blackmail, whatever. The thing is, those 'wanna-be' Death Eaters - they're no longer just 'wanna-be's'. If you believe the intel, they already _are_ Death Eaters. In fact, they were probably among those standing on that podium just before. And Moody… Well, he reckons he has a confirmed _list_ of them."

Now the three stared at him with wide eyes, shell shocked.

James proceeded to answer the unasked question.

"Mulciber. Avery. Dolohov. Rosier. Travers. And..." James hesitated, and refused to look at Lily when he said the last name, "And _Snape_."

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_The day after the Defense Against the Dark Arts Owl found James in the library, begging Lily Evans to hear him out._

"_Evans, it was a joke. Everyone else found it funny."_

_She whirled around, her bag hitting a book off its shelf._

"_In what way is levitating a person in the air and showing everyone his underwear a joke, Potter? And what is your obsession with Snape's underwear, anyway? Everyone else found it funny because _you_ found it funny. They all mindlessly follow you and look up to you, Merlin only knows why, and you just use your influence to be a bully! A worthless, cowardly bully."_

_James blanched. _"_Evans, we were getting on so well the other day-"_

"_Potter, that was me giving you a _chance_. Loathe as I am to admit it, you're fun to be around. Even though you always pick on my best fr- pick on Sev- pick on _Snape_," she colored a little bit, "I could have moved past it if you had just stopped doing it, like I'd asked you to. But your arrogance… your ego! You are the most self-satisfied arse I've met in my life, Potter!"_

"_Evans, I wasn't the one who called you that - that word. The M-word. And for your information, he starts fights with me just as often if not more than-"_

"_So what if he hexes you first? So what if he insults you, Potter? Is your famous pride so fragile that it can't bear being the bigger person, for just once in your life?"_

_That was too much for James. _"_You don't know anything, Evans. There are things I've heard about Snape that would make you want to curl up into a ball. Things he's done-"_

"_Potter, do you think I haven't addressed that with him myself? If you haven't noticed, if the King of Hogwarts is somehow out of the loop, _I'm not friends with him anymore_. Got that? So you can just stop with your pathetic mission to _discredit_ him, or whatever it is the two of you are into these days. Merlin."_

_James took a moment to compose himself. He was here to make amends. Make her see his side. Then she'd realize he was speaking the truth. _"_There is a war going on, Evans."_

"_Oh, here we go."_

"_And people are taking sides."_

"_People are taking sides? In a war? No way."_

"_And it's happening in this very castle, Evans. The war has already started for us."_

_Lily surveyed him for a few seconds, and then sighed. _"_And why would you say you're on the right side of this war, Potter?"_

"_Because," he started, not sensing the trap immediately, "I don't hurt, or attack, or target any… one… Oh."  
_

_"Oh," Lily agreed._

"_Very clever Evans, but that's not the point. If we fight fire with fire-"_

"_Then there will just be a bigger fire. And then _everything_ burns."_

"_No, everything on _one side_ burns. Their side."_

"_And you would just stand there and watch them burn, Potter? You need to fight their fire with water. Fight their hate with love, Potter."_

"_If you're asking me to love Severus Snape, Evans…"_

"_Oh Potter, will you just shut up? Just shut up!"_

_That had been louder than she'd intended._

_Everyone in the library was now looking at them. Madam Pince was stalking over to them at that very moment, glaring so hard it was a wonder they were still breathing._

"_I'm leaving," Lily announced to James, before Madam Pince got too close. "Don't follow me."_

_She began to walk away._

"_Evans. Evans, wait!"_

_She stopped, turned, and gave him a look that clearly said 'This better be good'._

_James pulled a folded piece of parchment out of his pocket. _"_Here. This is for you."_

_She narrowed her eyes and snatched the parchment impatiently, unfolding it in front of him._

_Inside was a drawing of a Snitch, smaller this time, but with the same 'L.E' inscribed on it._

"_I drew it during the Defence Owl yesterday. Before the… you know. I was going to give it to you while you and the girls were by the lake."_

"_In such a way that all of them would notice, I'd imagine," she commented dryly, without looking up from the picture._

_But something in her expression had changed._

"_Of course," he grinned, feeling relieved._

_When she looked back up at him though, she quickly changed her expression back to being annoyed and impatient._

"_If you think I'll forgive you just because you drew me a picture, you're sorely mistaken."_

"_No, Evans I-"_

"_I'll see you in class, Potter. And I've informed McGonagall that you didn't serve your detention properly. She's advised me that you'll re-serve it tonight, and that she'll personally monitor you this time. I hope that teaches you something about doing things the right way."_

_And with that, she stalked off._

_Before she was out of his sight though, James saw her slip the parchment into her pocket._

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Frank and Alice were talking quietly on the other side of the dark room.

Lily had been silent since James' revelation. The conversation had sort-of just ended there. What else could be said?

"I suppose you must be quite smug about all this," Lily said to him quietly after around ten minutes had passed.

James considered this. "No," he said honestly. "I want to be. But I think I just find it sad."

Lily looked at him but said nothing.

"He's our age. And we're just kids, Evans. We shouldn't be fighting a war. We should be back in Eeylops or something, arguing about the price of owl treats."

She laughed softly. James took no notice, though. He needed to bounce off someone all the things that had been on his mind, and for some reason it was coming out better with Lily than it did with Sirius.

"Not to mention, at the end of the day, whatever dark hole Snape ends up in, he'll be there because I pushed him into it. Not Avery, not Yaxley. Not even Voldemort. Me. How could I be smug about that?"

Lily opened her mouth to answer, but James wasn't done.

"I owe you an apology," he realized. "For this morning. And I suppose for every day before that."

"Not every day," Lily whispered, nudging him in the side.

He smiled. "No, I suppose not. But for all the rest of them, I'm sorry. I mean it, Evans."

Again, she opened her mouth to say something, but he still wasn't done.

"My dad's dying," he said bluntly.

"Potter…"

"During the raid on the Goyle family's estate, he was exposed to something. It's unclear what it was, but it's untreatable, and it's killing him. It's helped me understand what you mean. Responding to the Death Eaters by trying to beat them at their own game only results in more cases like my dad's. And starting this kind of cycle of hatred as early as Hogwarts… it's just tragic."

Lily nodded approvingly. "Well I'm glad you've come around to my way of thinking, Pott-"

"That's just the thing though," he interrupted. "I haven't. I still disagree with you. I still stand by what I said about it, Evans."

Lily frowned at him. "Potter, how could you still justify-"

"The Goyle family is suspected of funding Voldemort's whole agenda. Ministry support, bribes, campaigns - they're a huge asset to him. Taking the initiative with a pre-emptive strike on them was, in theory, the best option."

"But your dad-"

"My dad did what he did to try and stop this war from happening. And I'm sure that if he could go back and either stop himself from leading the raid, or take another crack at it, he wouldn't hesitate. He'd do it again in a heartbeat."

Lily gazed at James with an unreadable expression on her face. He pushed on, hoping she could understand.

"In that regard, I am my father's son. I will do _anything_ to protect the people I care about, Evans. If that involves getting my hands dirty, then I'll do it. Whatever it takes. Pride, honor, even my life, they would be meaningless without those important to me. It was wrong of me to treat a lot of people the way I treated them. I agree with you on that. But if Sirius is in a fight, someone's getting hexed. If Peter gets made fun of, someone's getting hexed. And if Snape so much as _looks_ at Remus the wrong way, the next thing he'll be looking at is the ceiling of the Hospital Wing."

"Potter, really now-"

"And if you can't accept all of that, Evans, then tough shit. Because that's just the way it is. Okay?"

Lily swallowed the words in her mouth, taking a long time to process them first. James watched her mull it over, sorting everything out in her head. When she finally spoke, it was exactly what James wanted to hear.

"Okay."

And for both of them, that was enough.

_oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO_

Waking up shirtless did not perturb Sirius Black. It happened often.

Waking up with a wide gash spreading from his lower abdomen to his collarbone, however, was quite the novelty.

"Merlin, _fuck_."

"Yes, that about sums it up," Marlene McKinnon nodded, her wand tracing over the opening in his skin with slow precision. "You've always had a way with words, Black."

Sirius groaned, being careful not to move too much as Marlene worked on the wound.

He craned his neck as much as he could without moving the rest of his body, and scanned the room. It was modest, with nothing really to look at. The paint on the walls was faded, the carpet peeling, the furniture dusty and cobwebbed, and the dining table he was draped across was chipped, and it wobbled each time Marlene nudged it.

Two windows on either side of a wooden door afforded Sirius a view of an empty Diagon Alley street.

Diagon Alley streets were never empty.

"Where are we?" Sirius turned back to peer at Marlene. "What happened?"

She bit her cheek and frowned in concentration as she answered, not looking away from her wand-work.

"Well, I don't know what the last thing _you_ remember is, but as for myself, I got separated from Lily shortly after we spotted the Dark Mark. The street was packed with everyone trying to escape, and it was impossible for me to keep track of her. Death Eaters started showing up in the streets, and they were herding everyone towards the centre of Diagon Alley."

"What for?" Sirius asked through gritted teeth, trying to distract himself from the pain of having his skin magically sewn together.

"I didn't stick around to find out. It took me a while to find an opportunity to slip away. There were so many Death Eaters, enough to be a small army. I didn't know You-Know-Who has so many sympathisers."

Sirius, knowing all too well just how many sympathisers Voldemort had, didn't say anything to that.

"Eventually I found you lying on the ground in the street. It's a miracle you weren't trampled on, there was barely any room to walk anywhere - the Death Eaters were herding literally everyone in Diagon Alley. You're lucky the good people were kind enough to walk around your body."

"I do have quite a marvelous body," Sirius grinned, although it quickly changed to a grimace as another particularly painful tremor wracked his torso.

"It's not bad, I'll grant you that, Black. Quidditch works wonders for the core."

"Ah, McKinnon, you're making me blush."

Marlene shook her head. "Anyway, when I found you I thought you were dead. If you think this wound is bad now, you should have seen it then. You really looked like a corpse."

Sirius nodded and frowned. "That's my cousin's doing - Bellatrix. You'd know of her, she finished at Hogwarts in our Third Year."

"Of course I know of her. She's in the paper every other week, the Ministry's looking for her. I saw her in the street just before all this started. She married Rodolphous Lestrange last year, right?"

Sirius nodded again. "Lunatics, the both of them. This," he gestured to his torn torso, where Marlene's attention and wand-work were currently directed, "is her idea of a practical joke, I think. She caught me while I was trying to get a message out. So what happened after you found me?"

Marlene bit her lip now, her wand-work becoming more complex.

"Well, I overheard one of the Death Eaters telling another that they have explicit orders from You-Know-Who not to harm anyone, just to gather us all. So I picked you up, you're surprisingly light by the way, and brought you over to them-"

Sirius interrupted with a sharp gasp of pain.

"It's almost over, you little baby. Just hold on," Marlene smirked. "So I brought you to them and told them I'm your girlfriend, and that I just want to get you inside and patch you up. They were very keen to get you out of sight, so we slipped away quite easily."

"Death Eaters aren't that bright," Sirius observed.

Marlene's wand was slowing, with most of the job done, and Sirius could barely feel the finishing touches she was putting on.

"No, they're not," she agreed. "So I carried you through an alleyway, tried doors until I found an unlocked one, and here we are. I've been working on you for about two hours, actually."

Sirius looked at her in surprise, and felt a surge of gratitude towards Marlene Mckinnon. "Thanks," he said simply, looking at her with interest.

She took no notice, nodding away his thanks quickly. "And…" she said with a final wand flourish, "Done! Consider yourself healed, and your life owed to me, Black."

Sirius sat up slowly and hopped off the table.

"Just make sure you don't move too much and you'll be fine," she said, sounding tired now as she walked over to a wooden chair and flopped down onto it.

Sirius shook his head, picking his discarded shirt off the ground and slipping it on. "No can do, McKinnon. I have no clue where James is, but I'm going to go find out, and then we're all getting the hell out of here."

Marlene straightened up in her chair like she'd been electrocuted, and stared at him. "Black, that's suicide. You don't know what's out there, and you're barely in a state to _walk_. Believe me, I get it. Lily's out there too, how do you think I feel? But the only thing we can do right now…"

Sirius had buttoned his shirt up, picked his wand off a chair, and was already opening the front door to the streets of Diagon Alley.

"You're not listening to me, are you?"

"Nope."

He stepped outside, ignoring the shooting pain running through his chest.

The street was still empty. It unnerved Sirius to no end, seeing the always bustling street barren.

"Black! You literally owe me your life, can you at least wait up?"

Marlene had run out of the house after him, hurrying along behind him as he strode quickly through the street.

"This is me waiting. I'm not running, because you told me not to."

"I told you not to _walk_, Black," Marlene sighed resignedly, finally matching his stride. "Do you even know where to look for them?"

They cut through an alleyway and emerged into yet another empty street.

"Nope," he admitted. "But you said everyone was being gathered towards the centre of Diagon Alley, right? Sounds like as good a place to start-"

"Padfoot!"

Sirius stopped in his tracks. Marlene stopped a few feet in front of him and looking back in confusion.

Sirius scanned the street, looking for movement, and found it soon enough.

Running towards him at full pelt and skidding to a halt was a grubby, out-of-breath, funny-looking boy with grime-covered cheeks and watery eyes.

"Wormtail," Sirius exclaimed happily. "You _did_ make it!"

Peter bent a little and wheezed, blinking at the ground, before standing up straight.

"I know," he puffed, "how to get… James, Lily, Frank, Alice… I-"

"Frank and Alice are here?" Sirius asked in surprise.

"I brought them… they have our Deluminator… and… I know how to turn off… the anti-disapparition jinx-"

"You know how to turn it off?" Sirius stared at his friend in amazement.

"Let me finish," Peter panted pleadingly. "Explosion… podium… You-Know-Who…"

Sirius' eyes widened at the name.

"He's here," he muttered disbelievingly.

He looked at the ground for a few moments, thinking hard.

Then he looked at Peter, who was leaning against a wall and breathing heavily. He was pleasantly surprised with everything Peter had managed to achieve in all this without another Marauder with him.

He was just opening his mouth to comment on that and congratulate his friend, but Marlene beat him to it.

"Pete, why do you smell like shit?"

_oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO_

Frank was flopping his mangled arm around in front of him, and Alice was staring at it with an expression somewhere between horror and morbid fascination as she slowly shuffled away from him.

"You can see bone shards sticking out of the skin in places," Frank announced to the three disgusted teenagers watching him.

James was grateful the room was so dark. He was quite sure he didn't want to see 'bone shards sticking out of the skin in places'.

"Doesn't it hurt?" Lily asked with a wrinkled nose.

"Nope," Frank grinned. "I lost all feeling in the arm about an hour ago. I have to tell you, I really wasn't expecting to fight Lord Voldemort today."

The other three nodded in agreement - none of them had.

"That reminds me," Lily said with a slight frown. "How did you guys suddenly appear on the podium? There should have been no way in or out of Diagon Alley."

Frank opened his mouth to answer, and then stopped himself, seeming to realize that he didn't really know how to explain it. He looked at James helplessly.

James sighed and looked between Lily and Frank with a resigned expression. "I'm assuming Pete brought you guys in?" he asked Frank and Alice.

They nodded.

"Wait, Peter's here? And _he_ got Frank and Alice in? How? Where is he now?"

James wasn't entirely sure which question to answer first. Luckily for him, he didn't have to try.

Just as he opened his mouth, Frank's pocket emitted a bright light, blinding the four teens whose eyes had adjusted to the darkness.

_Pop._

"Lumos."

As the flash of the deluminators faded, the grinning faces of Sirius and Marlene were illuminated by wandlight, standing in the center of the now well-lit room. Peter stood by them, bent over and panting hard.

A moment passed in which the three newcomers beamed at the four teens slumped on the floor.

"Merlin, what's that smell?" Lily complained, breaking the silence.

The next five minutes were spent catching all parties up on each one's missed business. James in particular found it quite interesting - he was very impressed with what Peter had accomplished over the course of the day, especially given that it had largely been by himself.

"And that's not all," Peter was saying, his face still a little pink but his breathing back to normal. "I know how to turn off the anti-disapparition jinx."

The eyes of Frank, Alice, Lily and James snapped to Peter and stared disbelievingly.

"Frank," Peter said, looking at the Head Boy, "do you remember what I told you would happen the moment you apparated in? One of the Deluminator's side effects?"

Frank looked at Peter and frowned for a few moments, before understanding dawned on his face.

"An alarm was supposed to go off. The moment we apparated in," he said slowly.

Peter nodded excitedly, almost jumping in glee. "But it didn't! The alarm _didn't go off_."

Most of them continued frowning, but James, realization hitting him, starting laughing. "Pete, you're a genius mate."

Peter's grin grew wider. "What was the first thing you did when you apparated in?" he asked Alice, haste in his voice now.

"I…" Alice trailed off, pursing her lower lip. "I think I stunned someone. Right?"

She didn't seem sure, but Peter seemed certain.

"Well, what if," Peter licked his lips, "what if the Death Eater you stunned was the one who cast the anti-disapparition jinx? And maybe the alarm didn't go off properly because the Death Eater who cast the jinx was unconscious. What if you took the exact right one out at the very start?"

They all stewed in silence at that, before Frank spoke. "The odds of that happening are…"

"Slim to none," Peter finished for him. "But it _happened_."

"Brilliant, right?" Sirius grinned.

A moment passed, before the four teens sitting on the ground jumped to their feet to join Peter, Sirius and Marlene in the centre of the room. A sense of urgency filled the air, and they talked more quickly now.

"So is the jinx _off_?" Lily asked. "Can we disapparate?"

Marlene shook her head. "I tried it when Peter explained all this to us earlier. Almost splinched myself, but nothing happened."

"It's a jinx," James affirmed. "The way to turn it off is with the _counter-jinx_."

"But to know the counter-jinx, we'd have to know the jinx in the first place," Alice reasoned.

Peter nodded again. "So we go back to the platform. The crowd is still all gathered there, but I'm able to... pass through crowds unnoticed, shall I say. I'll find the wand, and we can use a reverse spell on it, see what its last spells were."

"Wait, what do you mean you're '_able to to pass through-_'" Lily started.

"Doesn't matter," James, Sirius, and Peter said at the same time.

"Okay," said Frank with a tone of finality. They all looked at him. "So here's what we do. Sirius, Marlene and Peter, you'll go back up. You three still have wands. We'll stay here in case anyone comes back to check on us. Pete, do what you have to do, get that wand. Sirius, Marlene, you two focus on getting _our_ wands back. I don't think Voldemort will be holding on to them personally. I honestly wouldn't be surprised if our wands are just sitting in this house somewhere. Be quick, but discreet. Do _not_ engage any Death Eaters."

Sirius looked like he wanted to argue this last order from the Head Boy, but Marlene elbowed him hard and he closed his mouth.

"Meet back here in thirty minutes," Frank finished. "Got it?"

The three of them nodded.

Sirius waved his wand in the general area of the ceiling, and a trapdoor sprung open from above them. He looked at Marlene and Peter, and they nodded again. They positioned themselves under the open trapdoor, and Sirius turned to glance at the four staying behind.

"If you guys aren't still here when we get back," he began.

"Then I'm sure you'll come find us, wherever we are," Frank finished for him. "Now _go_."

Sirius gave another nod.

Then, with a brief wand flourish, the three of them were propelled upwards to the floor above, the trapdoor closing behind them, leaving the room shrouded in pitch-black darkness once more.

"Seriously, though," Lily said after a moment of the four of them standing idly in the dark. "Why does Peter smell so bad?"

_oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO_

"_I know you're a Death Eater."_

_Snape stopped walking abruptly, and turned around to face James._

_The corridor was empty but for them, and Snape had clearly thought he was alone if the rare look of surprise on his face was anything to go by. His expression quickly melted back into his usual dispassionate disposition._

"_Assuming you are correct rather than deluded," Snape spoke slowly, carefully, "it is awfully foolish of you to tell me so. If you believe I am a Death Eater, you must also be aware that I could kill you without a moment's hesitation."_

_James smiled without humor. "If that were true, I would already be dead. I'd imagine I've given you enough reason."_

"_Give me another then, Potter. Right now. Give me one more reason and we can test your little theory of whether or not I'm a Death Eater without wasting any more words."_

_Snape's proposition hung in the air between them, he at one end of the corridor, James at the other. It was enough distance for neither boy to really feel the nuisance of the other's company, but small enough to cover with a few long strides - small enough that they would be truly hard-pressed to miss with their spells, if they were so inclined._

_James shook his head. "I didn't come here to fight, Snape."  
_

_"No, I suppose not. After all, you don't have your entourage with you."_

"_I came here to make one thing clear. I know Voldemort's recruiting students. I know there is already a group of Death Eaters within these walls. And I am telling you to leave _anyone_ associated with me out of it. From Sirius to Frank, hell, everyone in Gryffindor, really."_

_Snape raised a brow._

"_Why would the Dark Lord waste his time with any of your filthy lot? Unless someone has something to offer? Perhaps Lupin? Tell me Potter, what are the chances that I have already relayed to the Dark Lord the events that I witnessed that night in the Shrieking Shack-?"_

"_You will leave him out of it," James cut in clearly. He stood casually, kept his face uncaring, but in his pockets his balled up fists were shaking. "Him, Pete, Sirius... everyone."_

_Snape looked at James for a long moment._

_There was a name he hadn't mentioned. But, when it came to the two of them, it never needed mentioning._

_James took a deep breath, unclenched his fists, and gave a small sigh._

"_That was some show we put on after the Defence Against the Dark Arts Owl the other day, huh?" James asked quietly, gauging the other boy's reaction._

_Snape's lips thinned. "You took from me the one person in this castle whom I actually cared for, Potter. You don't sound as scared as you should be."_

"_You did it to yourself."_

_They looked at each other across the corridor in silence, as though sizing one another up._

"_I will kill you," Snape said softly after a while._

"_You'll certainly try," James agreed._

_Another long moment passed, filled only with contemplative silence._

"_And on that day," James added eventually, "On that battlefield, we'll end this. Until then, you will keep everyone else out of it if you know what's good for you."_

_Snape smiled coldly. _"_Is that a threat, Potter?"_

"_It's a promise, Snape."_

_Snape snorted and turned away, showing his back to James as he started walking._

_James took his cue and turned too, walking the other way. Before he was out of earshot though, he heard Snape speak again._

"_Until that battlefield, Potter."_

_oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO_

Frank had gone back to showing Alice his arm. She didn't look too pleased about it.

Lily was staring off into space, seemingly deep in thought, so James prodded her shoulder with his finger.

"Evans."

"What?" she asked, turning her gaze on him.

"We have a truce, right?"

She wrinkled her nose. "No. I just tolerate you a little more."

"Tolerance is the foundation of any good truce, Evans."

"No Potter, the foundation of a good truce is a _truce_, which we don't have."

James fake pouted. "So if I brought firewhisky into the Common Room for the first night back, you wouldn't turn a blind eye?"

She gave him a suspicious frown. "Were you being nicer to me before just to butter me up for this?"

James pretended to consider this. "If I say no, will you turn a blind eye?"

"No."

"Then no, anyway."

"Good."

James hesitated. "Was that a test?"

"No."

"Worth a shot."

She laughed.

Then quite suddenly, the trapdoor above them burst open, and Sirius, Marlene, and Peter dropped down in front of them.

"Quick, get up, there's no time," Sirius said sharply.

Marlene handed the four teens who had quickly jumped to their feet their wands.

"Here," Peter said, handing another wand to Frank. "It took me some time to find where you blasted the poor bastard off to - nice work on that though - but this is his wand."

Frank held the wand out to Alice with his good arm, and she tapped it with her own wand, muttering an enchantment. Neither wasted any time now.

"It'll take us a while to pinpoint the jinx and then figure the counter-jinx out," Frank advised, as ghostly images of the previous spells cast by the wand appeared in the air in front of them.

"Unfortunately, we don't have a while," Sirius said grimly. "We were seen coming back here. Death Eaters will swarm in soon, we have to get out now."

James nodded and spoke up. "Frank, Alice, get to work on that counter-jinx."

The two didn't seem to notice, already hard at work.

"We've all got wands now," James continued, looking at each of the rest in turn. "Once we're up there, we'll be outgunned and penned in. It'll be dangerous from the get-go. So we move straight for the exit, get to open air. Be careful, and watch each others' backs. This won't be easy."

They all looked at one another briefly, in a futile attempt to delay the inevitable and buy themselves some precious few seconds more, before they would have to go up.

"Marlene and I will lead," Sirius said quietly after a few moments. "We know the way."

James nodded his agreement. "Pete, you know the way too, right? You'll flank them. Lily and I will cover the rear. Frank and Alice in the middle."

More nods from the lot of them.

James clapped his hands together. "Showtime, then. Let's go."

They gathered under the opening in the ceiling, and all took a collective breath, steeling themselves. Then Sirius waved his wand and, as though a gust of wind had burst through the stone floor below them, they were propelled upwards, above the trapdoor, and landing gently on a tiled wooden floor.

James kicked the trapdoor closed and looked around. They were in a narrow corridor, wide enough for only two people to stand comfortably abreast.

Sirius and Marlene took the lead immediately, heading off down the corridor with Peter a step behind. Frank and Alice followed. It looked like they had cracked the exact jinx already, and they now seemed to be trying to develop some sort of counter-jinx, muttering and waving their wands in erratic arcs.

James and Lily followed close behind them. The two would glance back every few seconds, down the other end of the long corridor, taking turns by unspoken agreement.

At the end of the corridor, the path split in two directions, hard left and hard right.

Sirius stopped near the end, Marlene close behind him, and he gestured to all of them with a wave of his hand to get back against the wall to their right . Once they did so, he slowly edged forwards and peered left and right.

He quickly pulled back and turned to look at the rest of them.

"Death Eaters," he mouthed.

After a few moments, James heard the footsteps of the Death Eaters. They were hurrying, and were only a few seconds away from the sounds of it. When their shadows loomed past the corner, the teens sprung into action.

Two Death Eaters turned the corner and Marlene cast a Silencing Charm on them both before they even seemed to register what they were seeing.

James couldn't see their eyes properly through the slits in their masks, but he imagined them being wide open in surprise.

Lily stunned the first one before either Death Eater could recover from shock, and Sirius gut-punched the second before pulling its masked head down to meet his knee with a loud crunch. The first Death Eater hit the far wall and slumped on the ground just as his friend collapsed against the wall adjacent, clutching at his masked face.

"Petrificus Totalus," James said calmly, binding the first Death Eater and the second soon after.

"Great work, Potter," Lily deadpanned. "Couldn't have done it without you."

"Yes, I do try my best Evans," he winked.

The group continued on, taking the right corridor, and then a left, following Sirius, Marlene, and Peter's directions. Corridors blended into more corridors, some identical, others decorated with framed pictures or fancy rugs.

Some of the corridors had closed doors lining their walls, leading to any number of unknown rooms or, James figured amusedly, perhaps more corridors. He figured the house must be impossibly large to fit all this, especially within Diagon Alley - this would mean it was enchanted, which would also mean that they probably couldn't just blast their way through the walls to get outside. He didn't have time to test this theory, though.

Four Death Eaters turned the corner at the far end of yet another corridor that the group was now hurrying along, with more joining soon after. Five, six, soon ten Death Eaters were hurtling towards the teens.

"We'll charge right through them," James yelled to his friends, running forward to join Sirius and Marlene at the front of the group. It didn't surprise him to find Lily right there next to him.

Jets of light shot towards them, and after a quick glance and nod at Sirius, both boys pointed their wands at the ground and waved them in the same motion.

The tiled floorboards ahead of the group peeled off the ground and stacked vertically, creating a thin wooden wall just in front of James and Sirius, looming just a few inches over their heads.

James peeked past the side of the wall and pointed his wand at the now tile-less ground just ahead of the Death Eaters

"Incendio," he roared.

Fire burst from his wand as though from a hose, covering the tile-less area with raging flames that roared and tumbled on the ground like a tide, radiating heat to fill the whole corridor.

Sirius cast a Shield Charm on their flimsy wooden wall at the same time.

"You two are insane," Marlene breathed.

"You two get back," James told Marlene and Lily, not looking away from what was now a no-man's-land between them and the Death Eaters.

"Like hell we will," Lily snapped, elbowing past James and taking his spot at the edge of the wall. "Reducto!"

The roof above the Death Eaters blew apart to smithereens, dropping wooden debris on the Death Eaters and opening up the corridor to the blue sky of the outside world.

Smoke and heat rose through the opening, and the teens gazed in wonder at their way out into Diagon Alley.

"Nice work, Evans," Sirius said approvingly.

"We can make it out now," Marlene yelled over the raging fire and shouts from Death Eaters. "We just have to get to that opening!"

James nodded, and made to extinguish the bonfire he'd conjured in the no-man's-land, but stopped when he heard a voice and a spell that he would recognize anywhere.

"_Sectumsempra!_"

A portion of their wall blew apart, creating a gaping hole in their only defense.

A single Death Eater ran ahead of the rest, and with a flick of his wand the fire parted ways for him, splitting into two and creating a thin opening in the no-man's-land, wide enough for a person to move through without touching the flames. He started shuffling through this small space, making steady progress towards the wall.

"Stay here," James growled. "Get that wall back up."

He skirted past Lily and what was left of the wall, and joined the Death Eater in the thin space between the two infernos.

When it was just the two of them, standing on either end of this small pathway between walls of fire, they both stopped and looked at one another. Heat blasted onto James face and skin, smoke through his nose, his eyes watered, and he was sure his skin would blister.

But still he felt the sheer coldness of the eyes behind the slits of that Death Eater's mask, chilling him to the bone.

No words were wasted. They had done more than enough of that in the past.

James pointed his wand at the masked face of Severus Snape, just as his enemy raised his own wand back.

"Avada K-"

"Stupefy," James yelled.

Snape had to stop mid-spell and weave to the side. James' spell shot off behind its target and hit one of the Death Eaters who had gotten up from the rubble of the collapsed roof, knocking him to the ground again.

"Crucio!"

James ducked, and hoped to Merlin his friends had gotten the wall back up and he hadn't just inadvertently subjected them to torture.

Snape didn't let James have a break while he ducked under the Cruciatus Curse.

"Reducto! Confringo! Incarcerous!"

James leaned this way and that, dodging the onslaught of spells through reflexes honed in over countless hours of time on the Quidditch Pitch. Although, he knew that luck was also a factor, and he could not keep it up for long.

"Sectum-"

"Protego!"

Snape stopped himself from finishing the spell, lest it get bounced back at him.

James seized the opportunity to take back his momentum.

"Expelliarmus!"

Snape shifted to the side, barely avoiding the spell whilst the fire tickled his back. James took a step forward.

"Stupefy!"

Snape took a step back.

"Impedimenta!"

James rushed forward after casting this last spell, and Snape, after ducking it, let out a cry of surprise at James' quickly approaching figure. Snape shuffled backwards and tripped over some rubble from the roof, falling to the ground in a heap.

James ran at him, ready to settle this score at long last.

"James," Marlene's voice called shrilly from behind him.

He looked up and stopped running abruptly.

Lord Voldemort stood, a few feet behind Snape's slumped form on the ground, smiling sinisterly at James.

A moment passed in which he looked into those cold, hateful eyes.

_I could end the war, right here and now._

Flames licked at his face and arms, and as he considered all the countless lives he could save, and the suffering that could be avoided, James truly felt the weight of the world on his shoulders for the first time in his life.

In a moment of acceptance, James raised his chin and squared his shoulders, lifting his arm to point his wand at Lord Voldemort.

"Potter, don't you dare try it," the voice of Lily Evans yelled from behind.

James hesitated.

It was a bad idea, he knew. Perhaps it was the arrogance she spoke of so often that made him believe he could win a duel against Voldemort. James preferred to think of it as inextinguishable optimism.

But it was a bad idea.

So, for once, he didn't do it.

James closed his eyes and waved his wand, first casting a Shield Charm over the body of Severus Snape, then pointing it in a stabbing motion at Voldemort. The flames in the corridor leapt up and rushed at Voldemort in their entirety, filling the air in front of James with the inferno.

Then, without checking to see the result, he turned on his heel and sprinted towards the wall and his friends, not looking back.

They had managed to rebuild the wall, thankfully, and James skirted around it and rejoined them. Peter was unconscious now and slung over Sirius' shoulder, Frank and Alice were still whispering to each other and waving their wands furiously, Marlene was shooting stunning jinxes from behind the wall, and Lily Evans had her hands on her hips, glaring daggers at James.

She made to say something, but he held up his hand, stopping her.

"No time. Hey, is there another exit?"

Sirius shook his head miserably. "Not that we know of."

James nodded, and looked at Frank and Alice. "How close are we, guys?"

Frank didn't look away from his work as he answered. "Very, very close. We need more time."

James nodded again. "Well we won't get that time staying here. McKinnon, pack it up, we're off."

Marlene sent one last jinx off into the sea of fire at the other end of the corridor, before reinforcing the wall with a spell and turning to James.

"Back the way we came?" she asked.

He wrinkled his nose. "I'm afraid so. Let's go."

And with that, they turned away from the wall and sprinted back down the corridor, leaving the inferno, the Death Eaters, and Lord Voldemort behind them. For how long, James was not certain. If he had to hazard a guess though, it would not be very long.

Back they went, hurtling down the never-ending series of corridors at full throttle, not daring to pause or look back for a single moment. A left, then a right, then a long stretch of tiled wood, and James still didn't feel even a little tired, all the adrenaline in his body kicking in and flooding him with strength and energy.

Soon they closed in on the spot where they'd left the two Death Eaters from earlier slumped on the ground.

Only, it wasn't just the two Death Eaters waiting for them. Running towards the teens, wands out and masks glinting in the lamplight, were eight more Death Eaters.

James stopped from the front of the group and looked back, seeing shadows looming down the far end of the way they had just come.

He looked around in desperation, and his gaze rested on one of the closed doors lining the corridor wall to their right. He grabbed the handle and yanked it open.

"In," he said quickly, hurrying the group along.

The door opened to a small, barren, windowless room, lit only by the lamps hung just below the ceiling.

They rushed in, Frank and Alice first, followed by Lily and Marlene. Sirius lingered by the door frame with James for a moment, Peter still slung over his shoulder.

"A closed door isn't going to stop him," Sirius said quietly, as Death Eaters from either side of the corridor charged towards them. "No matter how many enchantments we put on it."

"We don't need to stop him," James replied, unperturbed by the hordes of Death Eaters closing in from both ends. "We just need to buy some more time."

"For Frank and Alice?" Sirius asked sharply. "So it's just a gamble on time, now?"

James nodded slowly and entered the room, Sirius following him in. Shutting the door gently, James rested his palm against it before replying.

"Trust in our friends, Padfoot."

Sirius looked at him for a long moment. Then, with a sigh, he pointed his wand at the door.

"You'd better be right, Prongs. Protego totalum!"

"Salvio hexia!"

"Colloportus!"

They threw defensive spell after defensive spell at the door. By the time they were done with it, it glowed a hot white.

"How long will that hold for?" Marlene asked.

"In a perfect world?" Sirius grimaced at the door. "Forever."

"Glad we live in a perfect world then," Lily sighed.

James and Sirius walked away from their handiwork and turned to face the group.

"How close are we, Frank, Alice?" James asked, sounding more relaxed than he had any right to.

"We're almost there," Frank murmured.

"Just keep that door shut," Alice added.

James nodded easily. "Will do."

No sooner did he say it than a heart-wrenching cracking noise could be heard from behind him. James whirled around and watched a spider-web of crevices break out across the area of wall surrounding their enchanted door.

"Oh, bollocks…"

Jets of light flooded into the room through the cracks, hitting the walls, floor, ceiling, and forcing the teens to duck for cover.

"Close the holes up," James yelled over the sounds of splintering wood and shouts from both within the room and out. "Buy Frank and Alice as much time as possible!"

He and Lily ran to the left side of the door, Marlene and Sirius to the right, and began pouring a stream of protective spells into the crevices. But it was too late - the openings were made, and curses and jinxes were flowing through them like tap-water.

A wide crack suddenly split across a part of the wall near James' head, and a green curse burst through, coming within an inch of his neck and flying past to sizzle into the far wall.

"Bloody hell," James breathed.

Lily aimed her wand through the crack. "Stupefy!"

A grunt came from the other side of the wall, and the sound of a body hitting the ground soon after.

"You know Potter, you really are the master of excellent planning, terrible delivery."

James gaped at her, leaning to the side as another spell burst through yet another crack in the wall. "What on earth is that supposed to mean?"

Lily ducked under a blast of red light from a particularly large gap. "You really enchanted just the door and not the wall? What, were you hoping the Death Eaters would be nice enough to stop chasing us and go home when they saw the door was locked?"

James pointed his wand into a small crack and shot a jet of white light through it. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you making these wonderfully constructive criticisms when they _mattered_."

Lily scoffed and cast a shield charm on a large hole near her head just in time, bouncing a flash of yellow light back where it had come from. "Well it didn't occur to me that our great _leader_, who sees fit to order all of us simpletons around and take on the big problems himself, would need help from a silly, weak little girl like me."

James gave a frustrated sigh and jabbed his wand forwards into one of the larger holes. A stream of fire erupted from his wand and gushed through to the other side, bringing forth yells and curses from the Death Eaters. "It has _nothing_ to do with you being a girl-"

"And everything to do," Lily interrupted, her red hair flying as she twisted between a string of hexes, "with you being an arrogant, egocentric idiot who has to do everything _his _way."

"Really?" James turned to face her. "This again?"

"Yes," Lily burst exasperatedly, stopping and facing him too. "It will always be _this_."

The streams of light continued to pour through from between the cracks, but James and Lily took no notice of them. The two would have to shift a little every few moments, avoiding the curses, but otherwise acknowledged nothing at all except the other's gaze. Somehow, this was enough for them to avoid being hit, as if the Death Eaters were happy to give them a moment.

"I told you I'll do things my way," James said. "That the way I approach this war is up to me, and it's my own business. I said if that's not good enough for you, then tough, because that's just the way it is."

Lily said nothing, staring at him with an unreadable expression.

"And you said okay," he added, sounding tired. "This was literally less than an hour ago."

Lily bit her lip and just looked at him for a few moments before responding. "I didn't realize how _stupid_ your approach to this war is," she said at last. "Were you really going to try to duel You-Know-Who yourself?"

James hesitated. He made to answer, but heard a yell from elsewhere in the room.

"We've done it!"

It was Frank. He tossed aside the Death Eater's wand that had cast the anti-disapparition jinx, and he and Alice joined the four by the door.

The jets of light had stopped raining in through the cracks in the wall, but none of the teens noticed, distracted as they were by this long-awaited good news. They failed to observe the sudden lull from the other side of the wall.

"We cracked the counter-jinx," Frank beamed. "It's off now!"

"So let's get out of here, you lot," said Alice, looking exhausted but happy.

James, Lily, Sirius and Marlene took a moment to let this sink in. Then, grateful grins broke out across their faces, their shoulders slowly relaxing and letting the tension slip away, at ease at last. They all started laughing, tentatively at first, and then happily, joyously, with identical looks of disbelief and glee on their faces.

"Thank Merlin," James breathed.

Sirius, letting out his cheerful bark of laughter, walked over to where he had left Peter's still-unconscious form and slung him over his shoulder again. Then he walked back and joined the rest of them as they looked at each other in wonder.

They all stood there for one small moment, just before linking up to disapparate, processing the idea that they really would make it out of there alive.

The silence of the moment struck James as odd. It shouldn't have been silent, right then. It shouldn't have been calm, either. Something was odd.

James glanced at the door. It wasn't glowing white anymore.

His eyes widened and he opened his mouth to yell a warning to his friends, but he was too late.

The wall exploded deafeningly, raining chunks of debris and plaster and wood at the teens, the force knocking them off their feet.

The roof was blown off from above them, smashed and torn and gone in a split-second.

James closed his eyes as a wave of dirt flooded his face and he flew through the air for a moment, before hitting the ground hard enough to take all the breath from his body.

His ears were ringing and his eyes were closed and he couldn't process a single thought.

Chunks of rock or wood were falling on his body and he barely registered the pain as he lay in a heap on the ground.

After what felt like an eternity, James opened his eyes blearily and saw a blue sky where the roof had been just moments before. He felt weight on his chest and looked down. Planks of wood and lumps of plaster lay on him. He reached down and brushed them off, and then tried to sit up. James gasped in pain, feeling like something was stabbing him from the inside of his body.

He was experienced enough with injuries to recognize at least a cracked rib or two, as well as internal bruising and bleeding.

He looked around.

All the walls had received the same treatment as the roof, smashed or broken, opening up the small room to the rest of the massive house.

It was bright now, the sun shining down into the room, the clouds from earlier in the day nowhere to be seen anymore, bathing the room in sunshine, as well as parts of the house he was sure had never seen light.

James' eyes rested on the front of the room.

Lord Voldemort stood where the door and wall had been, looking in with an amused smile and his eyes ablaze. He lowered his wand now and locked eyes with James. The urge to run away as far as possible struck James as he met those eyes, an urge he had never before felt in his life. Of course, James had no intention of doing so.

With a groan, James pushed himself off the ground and stood, wincing and clutching his torso at the excruciating pain.

Around him, he dimly noticed Lily, Alice, and Frank also stand, the four of them gathering together to meet Voldemort's chilling gaze.

Sirius and Marlene were slumped on the ground, just by where Peter still lay, all covered in planks of wood.

A good few seconds passed as Voldemort looked at the four who stood against him.

Behind him, his Death Eaters gathered once more, forming a sea of black just beyond the Dark Lord.

Voldemort slowly raised his wand again, pointed it at the four teens.

James closed his eyes. He didn't feel fear - if anything, it was calmness. He knew he'd done all he could, for himself and his friends, to keep them alive. And in his mind, he knew that this was the _more_ he'd been looking for these last couple days - the _more_ that he hadn't been able to explain to Sirius, but somehow to Lily.

Behind his closed eyes, he steeled himself to see that flash of green.

It didn't come.

Instead, it was a blinding white light that hit his shut eyelids. He opened his eyes.

Albus Dumbledore stood in front of the four teens, all the sunlight in the world seeming to pour onto the one spot where he stood, filling the room with an aura of hope and salvation that even James hadn't dared to grant himself before that moment.

The elderly wizard stood as tall as a gladiator, and the fearsome presence of Voldemort paled in comparison with the blinding brilliance of Hogwarts' Headmaster.

Voldemort had frozen on the spot, staring at Dumbledore disbelievingly. When he spoke, it came out as more of a hiss than anything. "Old man."

James couldn't see Dumbledore's face from behind, and couldn't make much out from the back of the great man's head, but when Dumbledore spoke it was as clear as the blue sky above them all.

"Good evening, Tom."

The four teens frowned and looked at each other confusedly at that, the question in their eyes quite obvious. Who was Tom?

The name seemed to have some sort of effect on Voldemort, though. His eyes narrowed, and the expression on his face contorted into one of pure hatred.

James thought Voldemort would raise his wand and curse Professor Dumbledore. Or maybe even just yell at him.

Instead, with a simple _pop_, Voldemort disapparated away.

A moment passed in which every pair of eyes present stayed fixed at the empty space where Voldemort had just been, as though expecting him to reappear. After a few seconds, the Death Eaters seemed to realize it was over. Gradually, one by one, they too disapparated away with a series of pops.

Dumbledore didn't move to stop them.

Once they were all gone, and the only ones left were he and the teens, Dumbledore turned around and looked at them. At Sirius, Marlene and Peter on the floor, submerged in rubble. At Frank, Alice, Lily and James, huddled together in front of him.

He gave them a small smile, half amused and half exasperated. His blue eyes twinkled behind half-moon spectacles as he looked at each of them in turn. When eventually he spoke, the teens realized it really was over.

"Term begins in two days," he said, his tone light and conversational, as though talking about the weather, "so I would be remiss to grant Gryffindor an abundance of points before the Hogwarts Express even pulls into Kings Cross Station."

He paused thoughtfully, and the teens stared at him with confused expressions.

"But," he continued, sunlight glinting off his spectacles, "I can't imagine anyone being upset over, say, a ten point head start. Can you?"


	5. Front Page

Lily walked down the street she'd grown up on, smiling at neighbours who had probably never had a small army of lunatics trying to kill them.

If old Mrs Pickerton from down the road had stared down the end of Lord Voldemort's wand, Lily wondered if she would be able to trim the hedges and prune potted plants with the same carefree ease.

The events of the previous day had haunted Lily's dreams during the night, and the morning had found her hugging her mum and dad that little bit more tightly. She'd knocked on Petunia's door, but got no answer.

Lily kicked a pebble along the footpath, frowning a little as she walked.

She couldn't tell her parents about the war. They worried about her being off in a wonderful, magical, yet mind-bogglingly complex world enough as it was. How could she tell her parents that because they were not magical, she was worth less in the eyes of every powerful or influential person in her world?

Of course, Lily remembered, there were also people like Albus Dumbledore around.

_And James Potter._

Even after the events of the previous day, that boy was still somewhat of an enigma to Lily.

Was he despicable or admirable? Funny or cruel? Brilliant or arrogant?

There were times when he could be any or all of those things.

What bothered Lily the most was that when he was at his very best, she found herself inexplicably drawn to him, like a moth to candlelight. And yet when he was at his very worst, she _still_ found herself drawn to him, albeit for different reasons.

No matter which one it was, she and he seemed to always be entangled, and Lily was not pleased with it one bit. Even as the group of them had posed together for a photo the previous day, which Lily figured was probably for the front page of that morning's Prophet, Lily was right by his side, laughing maliciously at how silly he looked as he vainly messed his hair up for the photo. Of course, the photographer chose that moment of her smiling at him to take the picture. It was as if everything involving James Potter happened only to frustrate her. Or, she had to admit, on rare occasion, delight her.

"Why can't he just be _consistent_?" Lily grumbled, giving the pebble a particularly strong kick.

The neighbourhood gradually began to change as Lily walked. The streets grew dirtier, the smiles grew tighter, and the colors grew duller. Even the sun saw fit to hide behind the clouds, leaving a cold, sullen atmosphere in the air of Spinner's End.

It didn't take Lily long to find him. She was thankful for that, as it saved her the trouble of having to go to his house and ask for him.

"What are you doing here?"

Lily gave no indication that she'd been caught off-guard, and turned around slowly to face Severus Snape. He looked mostly the same as when she had last seen him, pleading with her after the end-of-term feast to talk with him, to be his friend again. Pale faced, sallow skin, and, Lily had to admit to herself, quite greasy hair.

One thing had changed though. His eyes were different now. Not in color, but rather… the life seemed to have left them.

Where once she had seen excitement in those eyes, as he explained to her what a '_Slytherin_' was, and that '_Yes, ghosts really do exist_', now Lily only saw black. A cold, calculating sea of black. The same black eyes behind the Death Eater mask that James Potter had taken one good look at and then immediately thrown caution to the wind for, to run into the inferno and throw down the gauntlet against his enemy.

"We need to talk," she said.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Then talk."

Lily sighed. Now that she was there, looking at him, she found that she really didn't want to talk.

"You were there yesterday," she said quietly. "Weren't you?"

Snape didn't answer, just looked at her. It was all the confirmation she needed.

"So would you have captured me?" Lily needed to know. "If Potter hadn't beaten you, would you have tried to duel and capture me?"

Snape's blank features twisted into a telling sneer. "Potter did _not_ beat me-"

"Please Severus, I was there. I saw it."

Snape closed his mouth and seemed to make a concerted effort to control his emotions. When his expression was blank again, he repeated himself.

"Potter did not beat me," he said calmly. "Our duel was not over. In fact, it still isn't."

"That wasn't my question. I couldn't care less about your duel," she told him. "Sev, I need to know… would you really have tried to capture me?"

Lily saw the gears turning in the boy's head, and she wondered if he knew the answer himself.

"Even if my answer is no," he said after a pause, his expression guarded, "what would it really change?"

Lily's response was more of a plea, begging him to understand.

"Everything."

Life flooded into the boy's eyes at the word, at the olive branch. Lily was filled with hope as she saw emotion, softness, and perhaps a glimmer of regret - _life_ \- swim around in the black eyes of Severus Snape.

"I… I don't know what I would have done," he said eventually, softly. His eyes were downcast, looking at the ground like it knew what the correct response was.

Lily nodded, more of a twitch of her head than anything. Though it wasn't the answer she had wanted to hear, it wasn't the one she had dreaded hearing either. At the very least his honesty spoke volumes to her that, at least to some degree, she could trust him.

"Well, let me know when you find out."

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Breakfast at the Potters' was the same mad, lively affair it always was.

"Well, obviously I'm in the middle of the photo," Sirius reasoned. "I'm better looking."

"You are not in the middle of the photo," a very stubborn James insisted, scowling a little at his plate.

"Except I am."

"You are clearly at least half a centimetre left of the middle."

"Notice how he didn't contest you being better-looking, Sirius," Mrs Potter chuckled, as she swept round the table to ladle scrambled eggs onto each of the four plates.

"There's not much to contest, is there?" Mr Potter chimed in, eyeing the scrambled eggs eagerly. "One of the boys is clearly better looking than the other."

"'Clearly' is a strong word," James grumbled.

"But you are quite grotesque looking, James," Mr Potter insisted, reaching across the table to grab a slice of toast off the pile.

"I am _often_ told that I am the spitting image of you," James frowned.

"Whoever told him that must have just felt sorry for him," Sirius whispered to James' parents.

The three of them threw their heads back and laughed. Mrs Potter even pointed at James as she laughed.

James ignored them and then smiled to himself as he repositioned that morning's Daily Prophet in the middle of the table to see it better.

Lily Evans didn't seem to think he was all that bad, judging from the photo. While the photo version of James alternated between mussing his hair up and trying to shove Sirius further to the left so he could claim the middle of the picture for himself, Lily was standing on his other side and watching him, a wide grin on her face and a twinkle in her eyes.

"But really, James," his mother said, drawing his attention back to the three of them, "if you would just comb your hair once in a while, you would be such a handsome boy."

James gave her an exasperated look as he began to butter his toast. "Mum, combing my hair is just as effective a method of taming it as giving me a detention is to 'improve my behaviour'. And for your information, the girls at Hogwarts all think my hair is plenty attractive as it is."

"Most of them," Sirius corrected.

"Most of them," James agreed. "My point being, I reckon I've done alright so far."

Some mothers may have dropped the point there, but Mrs Potter was not some mothers.

"But you have bits of wood in your hair, James, see?" She pushed the newspaper further towards him and jabbed her finger at photo-James' hair. Photo-James dodged to the side, avoiding the accusatory finger and bumping into photo-Lily, who punched him in the ribs.

"Yes Mother, that would be because _a building got dropped on me_. Twice!"

Sirius made a face. "More like one and a half times. And you blew the first one up yourself, too."

Mrs Potter opened her mouth, no doubt to leap onto James' blowing up of the podium, but Mr Potter spoke up.

"On that note - you've probably been told this already, James," he said, his face growing serious as he paused his shovelling of scrambled egg into his mouth. "But you really did do an extraordinary job yesterday. And you, Sirius. The two of you have made us very proud indeed."

Sirius visibly swelled at the praise, grinning at Mr and Mrs Potter with an unusually shy, childlike demeanor that a five-year-old might get when patted on their head and told 'good job'.

James meanwhile stared at a spot on the wall, thinking that the praise was rather empty to him.

"I had to do something," he said aloud. He'd realized that, amid all of the praise he had received over the course of the last day, and it made him understand that his actions really weren't all that impressive. He would always have done something - as long as Voldemort was threatening muggleborns, and especially as long as a certain _someone_ happened to be one of them. "To stop him from killing all the muggleborns present, I _had_ to do something. I'll never lose someone close to me if there's something I can do about it."

The other three stopped eating for a moment after this declaration. As James could have predicted, it was Mrs Potter who broke the silence. He could not have predicted what she said, though.

"Who's the muggleborn that's close to you, James?"

James froze. Sirius' head whipped up to stare at James, a grin threatening to break out across his face. Mr Potter watched James with curiosity, too.

James panicked, his mind hurriedly sifting through the muggleborns he knew. "Gavin Gergitch," he said.

"The fifth year Hufflepuff?" Sirius asked in a strained voice, biting his lip quite hard.

"That's right," James said defiantly.

"You know," said Mrs Potter, "I think I recognize that name."

"No, you must be mistak-"

"It was in a letter we received from Professor McGonnagal, I believe," she continued thoughtfully. "Didn't you push him into the Great Lake?"

"He was standing on the edge like an idiot," James responded immediately. "What was I supposed to do, not push him in?"

"It was winter, James."

"Gavin has a great sense of humor."

"He could have frozen."

"And yet he didn't. Just like that, I made a beautiful friendship," James insisted with forced gusto.

Mrs Potter didn't look convinced.

"And now we're quite close, really," he continued. "If I lost Gavin, I… I don't know _what _I would do."

Sirius had his fist in his mouth, trying and failing to hide his laughter, tears in his eyes.

"Hm," said Mrs Potter. "Well, you can tell me more about Gavin while you help me fry the bacon. Up you get."

She stood up and strode over to the kitchen, looking back at James and waiting for him.

James groaned. "Can't Sirius help? I'm eating."

"And I'm not?" Sirius quirked an eyebrow.

James opened his mouth to tell his friend he didn't care, but Sirius changed his mind, getting to his feet and walking over to Mrs Potter. "Although I'd be happy to help, Mrs P. You know how much I love our chats."

Mrs Potter beamed at him and they headed to the kitchen together, babbling on about one thing or another.

"Suck up," James muttered under his breath, turning his attention back to his breakfast and scanning the front page of the Prophet.

After a few seconds, he noticed his father watching him out of the corner of his eye, and he turned to meet his gaze. "What?"

Mr Potter smiled slightly, waiting a moment before responding. "Despite it all, you really enjoyed yourself yesterday, didn't you?"

James blanched. "Of course not. It was terrifying and traumatizing and-"

"James."

James paused and saw the twinkle in his father's eye, then cracked a smile and continued. "And exhilarating. Maybe even, I don't know, fulfilling? Despite everything that was wrong about yesterday, there were a handful of things that were very… right."

Mr Potter nodded, giving James a knowing smile. "You're a natural leader, James. You have an incessant need to help people, as well as to constantly challenge yourself and even those around you. It's a gift."

James shrugged off the praise - something he'd been doing a lot of recently.

As he pondered the events of the day before, his thoughts drifted to Hogwarts, and the new term starting in just over a day. And, as always, brilliant ideas flooded into James Potter's mind.

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The Knight Bus sped along, flitting from street to alley to even the occasional sidewalk.

Remus' headache felt like it was splitting his mind in two, and the jostling of the bus was not helping one bit. He felt lethargic and weak, and with each bump it took all his strength to stop himself from falling onto the people sitting either side of him.

"Full moon tonight," said the man next to him suddenly, not taking his eyes off the morning paper.

Remus stiffened and turned to look at the man, slowly and inconspicuously reaching for his wand.

"They say Mars will be visible, too," the man continued, jabbing a long article on the paper. "I still need to pick up a new telescope from Diagon Alley. Are you much of an Astronomer, boy?"

Remus paused, and then relaxed his arm back onto his lap. "No," he said. "I'm not a big fan of the night sky, if I'm being honest."

The man shook his head disapprovingly. "That's the problem with all you kids, you're all about the flashy spells and smelly potions. No appreciation for the _finer_ magical arts."

Remus didn't respond. He worried if he did that he might throw up.

The man flipped the paper back to the front page. Remus took a look at the page and then looked away promptly.

"That Diagon Alley business was a right mess, let me tell you," the man said after a moment of scanning the page. "No Aurors, no apparating, no floo… it's a miracle no one died!"

Despite himself, Remus couldn't resist another peek at the page. The huge picture that took up half the page popped out at him, just as it had that morning when he'd first seen it. Remus looked for a long moment at all his bruised and battered best friends waving up at him from the paper with wide grins on their faces.

"And to think, it took these kids to save the day in the end," the man wrinkled his nose. "I'd imagine all the others are feeling fairly useless right about now."

Remus looked away from the paper again, and stared at a spot on the floor as his mind waged war with his body.

"Yeah," he said. "I'd imagine they are."

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"I'm not sure I've understood you, Dumbledore," said the portrait of Phineas Nigellus, hanging on the wall of the Headmaster's office among all of Dumbledore's other predecessors. "Are you really planning on turning these children into a _military unit_?"

Dumbledore chuckled lightly and leaned on his desk, glancing sideways at the portrait. "Nothing quite so crude I'm afraid, Phineas. I now only recognize the need for a group of talented, determined, and influential students to take on tasks around the school that, for instance, a Headmaster may not be able to. Voldemort already has Death Eaters among the students coming back to the castle tomorrow, who will seek to influence, harm, and corrupt their classmates. It is critical that we have a group of our own."

Fawkes flew out of his cage then, gracefully arcing through the air to perch on Dumbledore's outstretched arm, spreading his magnificent wings wide and drawing the attention of all eyes in the room, portrait or not.

"And what about once they've finished school, Dumbledore?" Phineas asked quietly after a few moments. "Will you send those hot-headed seventeen-year-olds into a war for which they will likely lose their lives?"

Dumbledore sighed heavily and cast his gaze towards the Daily Prophet sitting on his desk. "Look at the frontpage of the paper, Phineas. I didn't send them anywhere, yet still they went. The least I can do is guide them now."

Fawkes squawked, almost in agreement, bringing a small smile to Dumbledore's lined features.

But Phineas wasn't done. "How do you know all these kids are trustworthy? How easily could just one of them turn traitor? What of the were-wolf, where was _he_ yesterday?"

"Tonight is a full moon, Phineas. He was smart not to go yesterday - unfortunate as it is, he would have only been in the way."

Phineas snorted. "Sounds mighty convenient, if you ask me. The attack was scheduled right in time for the full moon? We know the Dark Lord has been recruiting were-wolves. And we know how _trustworthy_ these were-wolves are anyway-"

"Remus Lupin is not a traitor," Dumbledore cut in, speaking slowly but revealing the smallest hint of anger in his voice. "And this is the last I will hear on the matter."

And it _was_ the last he would hear on the matter. For at least another handful of years, at any rate.


	6. Worth It

The Hogwarts Express chugged out of King's Cross Station at last, and Lily for one could not be more relieved that the break was finally over. The dreary and uneventful summer, coupled with its terrifying and life-threatening end, had taken a strong mental toll on her - much less of a 'break' than she had hoped for.

"Do you reckon Slughorn will be mad that I didn't do the homework?" Marlene asked as she, Alice, and Lily navigated their way along the corridor, stopping at each compartment to check if it was empty. "I _was_ busy fighting off You-Know-Who, afterall."

Alice looked doubtful. "Given that it only happened the day before yesterday, I imagine he won't see that as much of an excuse."

Lily peeked into a compartment as they passed it and kept walking.

"What do you reckon, Lily?" Marlene poked her shoulder. "Sluggy loves you, surely you can put in a good word."

She peeked into another compartment. Fourth Year Hufflepuffs playing Gobstones. Kept walking.

"Professor Slughorn loves me because I do my homework," she said, not breaking her stride. "Next time, don't procrastinate."

Marlene scoffed. Lily couldn't see it, but she knew her friend was rolling her eyes. "Oh, please. We both know I'm just going to copy yours anyway."

A few loud Second Years came running down the length of the narrow corridor. Alice and Marlene were kind enough to pause and wait as Lily stopped the kids, giving them a stern warning.

Marlene smirked at her when she turned back to them. "Someone's feeling grumpy, I see."

Lily rolled her eyes and set off again at a brisk pace, slowing only when she felt Alice's hand on her shoulder.

"You haven't said a lot since we've seen you today. Is something bothering you?" the mindful girl asked with a furrowed brow.

Lily wrinkled her nose, waiting a moment before she answered. "No. Nothing really."

"Are you sure-"

"_Yes_, Alice. I'm fine."

She waited until Alice nodded, and then they kept walking. Her friends were quiet beside her now.

Lily groaned inwardly. She hadn't meant to let her frustrations show, but now she'd gone and put a damper on the mood. In a way at least she was glad for it. She didn't much feel like pretending to be upbeat just then, and she could at least make use of the silence while she had it. Maybe she'd crack open a book once they found a compartment, get a nice few hours of quiet before the madness that was Hogwarts.

The last thing she wanted to do was entertain a conversation that wasn't going _anywh-_

"Hey, Lily." A compartment door just ahead of her opened, and out walked a Seventh Year Ravenclaw with slicked back hair and a very punchable face. His name was Tim, or something to that effect. "You're looking as ravishing as always."

Lily didn't say anything. He seemed to realize she didn't intend to respond so he quickly continued.

"First Hogsmeade visit isn't too far off, you know. I was wondering if you would like to accompany me to it, maybe as friends? Or maybe as something more, who knows?"

He winked.

Lily noted with detached amusement that this was their first ever conversation. If it could even be called that. She answered his question with one of her own, and pretended that his answer would have any sway on her decision. "How do you compare to the last person who asked me out, Tim?"

"Tom."

She didn't correct herself. Again she watched him figure that was she wasn't inclined to respond.

"Who- Who was the last person to ask you out?"

She smiled. "James Potter."

The look of realization that crossed his face made Lily want to laugh. He should have expected that, really. Whether she liked it or not, the darn prat's name and hers tended to go in the same sentence.

"I'm sure you know of him," she continued. "His reputation really does proceed him. And even though I rejected him, being the possessive and arrogant prat that he is I doubt he'd take kindly to you asking me out."

The boy's face flushed first, and then colored rapidly. "I can take him."

Lily snorted. "No, you can't. And I don't fancy a downgrade from him either, bad as he is. So I'll have to kindly reject your offer, Tim. Do stay in your compartment until the train reaches Hogsmeade. I'm due to patrol soon and I'd hate to have to give you a warning."

With that she walked on, leaving him there to gape at empty space.

Marlene and Alice hurried to catch up with her.

"Grumpy Lily is my favorite," Marlene whispered.

Alice was smiling slightly. "You realize that rejection was you saying you're basically involved with James Potter, right?"

Lily clicked her tongue impatiently. "By an extraordinary stretch of the imagination, perhaps. Besides, if Potter insists on being an insufferable git then I may as well benefit from it every now and then."

Alice let out a cough that sounded rather like the word '_excuses_'.

Marlene was up ahead of them, looking into a compartment. "Well, seeing as you feel that way Lily," the girl said, sliding the door open, "I doubt we'll find an empty compartment, so this will have to do."

Inside were Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew, and they looked up eagerly as the girls walked in.

"Top of the morning," Sirius said loudly, grinning and spreading his arms wide. "Please, make yourselves at home. We'd like you to think of our compartment as _your _compartment. You need anything? Drinks, food, tour of the room?"

Marlene swatted him on the back of the head and collapsed on the seat next to him.

Lily looked around and almost asked the obvious question, but stopped herself in time.

Alice asked it for her.

"Where's James?"

Lily sat next to Remus and smiled at him warmly, to broadcast to anyone watching that she wasn't bothered about Sirius' answer to the question.

"Quidditch meeting," Sirius said dismissively, with an off-handed gesture to somewhere further down the train.

"Already?" Alice looked surprised.

A twinkle appeared in Sirius' eyes. "He's putting a lot on his plate this year. Best to start early."

Lily gazed out the window as Alice and Marlene probed Sirius for more information, with the latter remaining tight-lipped on the matter.

"Are you alright, Lily?" Remus asked her. "You seem quiet."

Lily wanted to sigh in annoyance, but she couldn't do that to Remus.

"I'm fine," she said instead. "Just tired."

Remus nodded. "I know the feeling, trust me. Are you having trouble sleeping?"

Lily groaned. "Merlin, yes. I woke up from a n… _dream_ at about two in the morning. I ended up eating and wandering about the house until sunrise, I couldn't go back to sleep."

Or rather, she didn't want to go back to sleep. Not if she would just get the same 'dream' again.

"Yeah," said Remus. "I was up for most of the night too."

Lily looked at him curiously. "Same problem as me?"

A wry smile from Remus. "Pretty much. A lot of wandering about. A little bit of eating that I'm not very proud of."

Lily chuckled. "Oh, I can definitely relate to that. I had corn chips. You?"

Remus hesitated. "About the same, really. Hey, aren't you due to patrol now?"

Lily froze for a moment, and then jumped to her feet. "Shit, how did I forget? Oi, you lot - I'm off to patrol, I won't be long. Thanks Remus!"

She heard him say "Don't worry about it" before she closed the compartment door behind her and set off to the front of the corridor to start her patrol.

As she patrolled, alone with her thoughts, Lily found herself settling back into an irritable mood.

Over the length of the corridor, she gave eight verbal warnings, three lectures on proper conduct, and four detentions.

"But I have an audition for Flitwick's choir on that day," the twitchy Third Year protested.

"You should have thought about that before you set a niffler loose in the corridor," Lily informed him, sticking her nose in the air.

Five detentions.

She stalked off, looking for more punishments to dole out. She had expected to be in a better mood by then. Talking to Remus had been nice, but it hadn't really done much other than only briefly abate her foul mood. What more could she do?

As she reached the end of the train, she caught a glimpse into one of the last compartments.

Before she could stop herself, she slid open the door and stepped in.

"Alright, Potter?"

James Potter was alone, sitting by the window and pouring over some notes. He looked up at her in surprise, and then a grin spread across his face.

Despite herself, Lily felt a small smile of her own creep on.

"I'm not bad," he said. "Yourself?"

She walked over and sat down opposite him.

She didn't say she was fine. She had no reason to placate or reassure him.

"Argue with me," she said instead.

"I'm sorry?"

"I want to argue, Potter. Go on, say something stupid and obnoxious."

He watched her for a moment, confusion blending with amusement on his face, before he shrugged and rose to the challenge as she knew he would.

"There's going to be a party in the Common Room tonight. When I asked you back in Diagon Alley if I could bring alcohol in, you said no."

Lily nodded. "I _did _say no."

"And now?"

She didn't hesitate. "No."

"Right, see, I thought you might say that. Now see here, Evans. People are expecting to have a good time tonight-"

"And you're saying they can only do so if they're drunk?"

"No, I'm saying it would certainly _help_ if they were drunk. Let me tell you a story, Evans."

"Oh, here we go."

"It's about a little Second Year Gryffindor boy called Jeronimo."

"How sweet."

"Quite. Now, Jeronimo has a little Second Year Gryffindor girl that he really likes. But he doesn't-"

"What's her name?"

"What?"

"The girl's name, Potter. What is it?"

He glared. "Does it matter?"

"It'll help me get more immersed in the story."

"Fine. Her name is Lucy."

"Are you sure? Not Laura? Lydia? Lorelei?"

"No, it's Lucy."

"Okay."

"Okay. Now Jeronimo really likes Lucy, but she's rejected him countless times."

"Shocker."

"Yes, Jeronimo thinks so too. But he's hoping that if she just loosened up a bit-"

"I'm sure Lucy is plenty loose already."

"Jeronimo disagrees."

"He does, does he?"

"Yes, he told me."

"Well you should tell Jeronimo that he should really just take no for an answer, and rather than try to change Lucy's mind he should consider why she rejected him in the first place."

"I'm sure Jeronimo has already put plenty of consideration into why she-"

"Furthermore," Lily continued, "you can tell Jeronimo that there are better ways to Lucy's heart than getting her drunk and trying his luck."

"He'll probably want to know what those ways are."

"Well tell him that's tough. He has to figure it out himself."

"He probably won't be pleased with that."

"Yeah, I can imagine. He sounds like a real self-entitled brat."

"Actually," James argued, "I think he's a lot better these days-"

"He's twelve."

"Thirteen, thank you very much. And he's really found his element recently-"

"Well, I'd love to meet him. Where is he?"

"Unavailable."

"Is he not on the train?"

"I won't give you his location. You called him a brat, he won't feel safe."

"A very impressive little boy, I see."

"Well Lucy's not that much better."

"Oh really?"

"She's stubborn."

"He's arrogant."

"She's obsessed with the rules."

"He's obsessed with himself."

"Pale skin-

"Crooked grin-"

"Prude."

"Prat.

"Idiot," they both said at the same time. Then they paused and looked at one another, half smiles starting to form on their faces.

And they laughed. Lily slowly felt her whole day brighten as she sat opposite James Potter and laughed, both teens grinning and guffawing at one another as a sunny, blue and green meadow rolled past the window.

"I needed this," Lily said after a few more chuckles. "Thanks, Potter."

He inclined his head, still grinning.

Feeling bubbly now, Lily threw her restraint out the window and hopped across to the other side, sitting next to him rather than opposite.

"So what's all this, then?" she asked, peering at the notes he held.

"You first," he said, tilting them away from her.

She stared at him in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Well," he said, folding the notes and tucking them away, "you seemed a little down earlier. And you came in here to talk specifically to me. You must have been in a _terrible_ mood."

He waited, perhaps for her to deny it. When she didn't, he pressed.

"What happened?"

Her face clouded. "It's not a fun story."

"Well, I'm not in it, so that's a no-brainer really."

She elbowed him in the side, hard.

"It happened this morning."

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"_I know about your condition."_

_Not for the first time, Lily was struck by how ridiculous Vernon Dursley looked and sounded. Even the way he carried himself, like a strutting peacock with a beer-belly, was comical for her to behold._

"_My… condition?"_

_Vernon nodded, the ends of his moustache swaying in the air. "Petunia told me all about it. Your tricks and freakish, unnatural tendencies."_

_Lily eyed him cautiously. "You mean magic?"_

"_Hocus pocus."_

"_No, just magic."_

"_Occult voodoo."_

_She sighed. Having stayed up all night, refusing to go back to sleep, Lily could think of plenty of other ways she would rather be spending the morning of her first day of Sixth Year than this, sitting at the dining table with Vernon Dursley for an interrogation._

"_Sure," she said. "Well, what about it then?"_

_Vernon drew himself to his full height, Lily assumed in order to look somewhat impressive. She poured cornflakes into her bowl and started munching down on them in the interim. _

"_I do not approve of it," he declared._

_Lily nodded, leaning back in her seat to give him her full attention._

"_It is abnormal. It is ludicrous, and therefore offensive, destructive and dangerous. I will not-"_

_Lily stood up suddenly._

"_Needs milk," she explained. "Go on."_

"_Right." He cleared his throat and turned to speak to Lily's turned back as she rummaged through the fridge. "I will not allow it to be a part of my future. And, as I intend to marry your sister, it, and by extension _you_, must be kept at arm's length going forward."_

_Lily said nothing._

"_I have a bright future ahead of me. I'll be very prestigious in the drill manufacturing industry, and by the time I'm thirty I'll be slightly richer than any average working class man, I assure you. I'll have a nice property in a respectable neighborhood, and start an upright and virtuous family with Petunia. Unextraordinary. Normal. And your… your _antics_ will not be conducive to that sort of lifestyle for us. So- So we can't have you around us to ruin it. Petunia agrees. We will not have a freak around."_

_Lily kept her face planted in the fridge. It was funny, she thought._

_There was a tear running down her cheek, its descent slowing as the blast of cold air from the fridge tried to freeze it there. Let it, she thought. Then she wouldn't need more tears. That one would do just fine, a permanent part of her._

_Right then at least, if a tad bit melodramatic, she rather liked that metaphor._

_oOoOoOoOoOoOoO_

_She hesitated at Petunia's closed door. Her suitcase was at the bottom of the stairs, and she was all ready to go._

_Lily sighed, heavy and long. She wanted to close her eyes, if only for a moment. But she couldn't - wouldn't. Every time she did, another image from the night returned to her. Petunia, slaughtered on the street. Her parents, screaming behind a closed door. Blood on the ground, blood on her hands, blood on the walls. The empty eyes of her friends staring up at her. Albus Dumbledore collapsing on the ground in front of her, his head severed. And it was her fault. They'd be safer without her around, they all would._

M-U-D-B-L-O-O-D

_Lily snapped herself out of it._

_She opened Petunia's door and entered the room, refusing to convince herself otherwise. _

_Petunia looked up from a glossy magazine. "Have you ever heard of knocking?"_

_Lily ignored that. "I just spoke with Vernon before he left."_

"_Oh." Petunia watched Lily for a moment, and then put the magazine aside and folded her hands in her lap, looking Lily hard in the eye. "And?"_

"And?! _And, it's completely bloody stupid, that's what-"_

"_Whatever Vernon said, I am fully on board with," her sister said clearly, staring Lily down. "He put no words in my mouth. It's not like I haven't been saying much the same to you for years now."_

_Lily blinked fast. "I… I just assumed you would, I don't know, grow out of it. Grow out of saying you want nothing to do with me, and one day we could be-"_

"_Friends?"_

"_Sisters!"_

_Petunia didn't seem to have a response to that._

_Lily took a breath and leaned against the door frame lightly. "Do you remember when we were little, and we'd talk about the future? About each of our kids playing in the backyard while we had tea and watched them from the kitchen? Our daughters would play dress-up while our sons wrestle on the grass-"_

"_And you would lecture our daughters that they can wrestle too, and do it better than the boys," Petunia snorted, looking somewhere Lily couldn't see and smiling._

"_Because they can!"_

_Petunia laughed, and met Lily's eye with a smile on her face. Then, just as quickly as it came, the smile faded. _

"_It can't happen, Lily."_

"_It can. It all can!"_

"_Well it won't."_

"_Why?" Lily demanded._

_Petunia took a few seconds to answer, and Lily got the feeling the answer satisfied her just as little as her sister. "Because that's just the way it has to be."_

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James was watching her face carefully as she finished the story, and she was thankful to him that he hadn't interrupted at any point.

They stood on the rain-washed road outside Hogsmeade Station, watching as the next horseless stagecoach pulled up for them to clamber on. A few Second Years climbed on after them, glancing at the two Sixth Years, almost awe-struck.

Lily could only assume Alice, Marlene, and the Marauders were well on their way to the castle by now, with her and James having dawdled on the train as she talked, and trudged together slowly over to the carriages.

She sat close next to James, making room for the Second Years. He was still watching her intently, and she met his gaze, waiting for his take on her story.

"It isn't the fact that she doesn't want you around that bothers you most, is it?" he asked eventually.

Lily was always taken aback when he displayed his more observant and shrewd qualities.

"No," she agreed softly. "It's the possibility that she might be right. She'll be better off without me around. Safer."

She looked away from him, down at her hands. He took a few seconds to respond. When he did, as always, it surprised her.

"Yeah," he said. "She'll definitely be safer if you're not around her. A lot of people will probably be really hurt, or in danger, just because you're in their life."

She turned to look at him, a tear almost threatening to break again, not sure if this was his idea of a joke. She was in an uncharacteristically fragile mindset today, and this was the last thing she needed.

"The closer a Muggleborn like you gets to someone, the more likely they are to be tortured, injured or killed."

Her image of the world starting to splinter, vulnerability creeping into her expression, she nodded. If this was how _James Potter _felt, what hope did she have?

"Okay."

"But," he continued, "everyone who is close to you is there because they _want_ to be. Because you're worth it to them. No, I won't lie to you and say your sister will be perfectly safe as an active part of your life. She'll be much safer being far away from you. But if she thinks that is worth not being around you, she's barmy. And you can make do without her."

He placed a hand on each of her shoulders and shook her.

"There are _countless_ people who will stand right by your side, knowing the risk, and stare down the wands of a _thousand_ Death Eaters. Because to them, you're worth it. It's up to you whether or not you let them do that, but if you want my advice, I think you should let them. If they want to die for you, let them, because there's nowhere else they'd rather be. The people who do that for you are the ones that make life worth living - why force yourself to push them away?"

Lily hung loose in his grip, feeling like she might fly away with the weakest gust of wind if he wasn't holding on. She knew this was weak, and on any other day she would have scorned herself for being so pathetic. But today was different.

"But if I let them die," she whispered, "I'll have to live without them anyway. And it will be my own fault."

"No," he said loudly, bringing her closer and forcing her to look him in the eye. "It will be their fault for deciding you're worth it, for knowing you're worth it, and Voldemort's fault for being a prick."

Lily smiled faintly. The Second Years stared at James, wide-eyed and mouths agape.

"Let those people in, Evans. There are so many of them."

She felt the strength return to her mind and body at the same time as she noticed just how close his face was to hers.

"Oh? Like who?" She was close enough to see every speck of color surrounding the pupils of his eyes by the moonlight.

"Well, I heard Jeronimo is particularly partial to you-"

"Oh, shut up," she laughed, elbowing him in the side and squirming out of his grip.

"It's true Evans, he has a bit of an obsession."

"With who? Himself?"

"Among others, yes. He has a healthy dose of self-assurance."

"Oh, healthy?"

"Yes, Evans. Healthy. In fact, let me tell you a story…"

And so they talked, in much the safe fashion, for the rest of the moon-lit carriage ride to Hogwarts, over the walk to the Great Hall, and even right through the Sorting.

It wasn't until she watched him tuck into a glistening drumstick of roast chicken that a thought occurred to her.

"Oi, you still haven't explained what those notes were. The ones you were looking at really intensely on the train."

"Ah, you mean before you came in to harass me?"

"Before I came in to make your day, yes."

James put the now meatless bone down and piled a few more onto his plate. "Quidditch notes. I have a lot of work to do."

She narrowed her eyes. "Sirius was being all mysterious about you supposedly having big plans, and 'a lot on your plate' this year."

James rolled his eyes. "No, they really were just Quidditch notes. But I do have big plans this year. Nothing mysterious about them, but that's Sirius for you. And as for my plate," they both looked down, "...it tends to fill up quite quickly."

She stayed persistent. "If your plans aren't mysterious, then what are they?"

"First, let's settle another matter. A party is happening tonight. So, when I _do _bring alcohol in, with or without your permission, what can I expect from you?"

She pretended to deliberate this for a moment. "How about I turn a blind eye and only give you _one_ detention?"

He grinned. "I'll take whatever mercy I get."

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James looked over his Quidditch notes at his desk one last time before the Marauders would head down to Hogsmeade for the alcohol.

"They're clearly chummy, Moony," Sirius was saying from behind him. "Prongs should just ask her out now."

"He has to learn to be her friend before they can enter a relationship," Remus argued. "Regardless of how 'close' they were sitting at dinner. She only just stopped hating him!"

Sirius scoffed. "I don't think she ever really hated him. Remember how she used to look at him, even back then?"

"Regardless," Remus pressed, "they've reached a good place now. Let that be what it is, I say. Why rush?"

"I agree with Remus," Peter piped up.

James tried to drown out their voices with limited success. "Shut up," he mumbled to no one in particular.

There were three empty spots on the team, so he'd have to arrange try-outs as soon as possible. It had been funny during the meeting on the train to have Frank Longbottom, Keeper and now Head Boy, answer to James. It had been perfectly expected last year when James was made Captain instead of Frank. He was glad to see that even after Frank's new appointment, the team dynamic hadn't changed at all. Though he hadn't been too worried about it.

James folded the notes up once more and placed them in a drawer. Quidditch was the least of his concerns now.

"But something has obviously changed between them," Sirius persisted. "Prongs would be an idiot not to make the most of it!"

"I agree with Sirius," Peter flipped, predictably.

All James knew for sure was that a lot of change was on the horizon, both for himself and the school. He, certainly, was ready for it. As for the school, well, he would just have to wait and see.

James grinned as he draped the Invisibility cloak over the four of them and they headed out.

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**A/N: desperately crave feedback, write that review, send a doctor, help meeeeee**


	7. A Fight is a Dance

"-because honestly, who even still supports the Tornados anyway? So I told him, I said-"

For James, one of the few drawbacks to his popularity was how much it tended to get in his way.

"-and you _must_ come to my father's beach house this Christmas James, it's to _die _for-"

His attention was always in such high demand, it was exhausting. He'd made the mistake of dawdling at the drinks table too long, and the masses had seized the opportunity to trap him in a seemingly inescapable vortex of dull conversation.

"-but it's like I always say, good things come to those who invest in property!"

Tinkling laughter came from the small mob surrounding James consisting of breathy, awe-inspired Second Year boys, blushy, eyelash-fluttering Fifth or Sixth Year girls, and a few stragglers who seemed to just like being part of a crowd. All of them talked at the same time, so James couldn't say who or what they were laughing at really.

They all seemed to be waiting for and expecting him to do or say something extravagant - to bring the party from a fun time to a crazy time. Normally James would be more than happy to fill that role, as he so often found himself doing, but this time he had other priorities.

He looked across the Common Room and saw Lily in a corner of the room, talking in hushed tones with Marlene and Alice, a drink in her hand. He needed a way to get away from the crowd - something exciting that would capture their attention.

Then Sirius came down the stairs to the boys' dormitory, stumbling and staggering, clearly already piss drunk.

James watched his best mate pull his shirt off, wave it in the air, and then in a drunken slur yell something about dragons to the room at large.

Everyone cheered.

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"So you like him again?"

"What do you mean 'again'?" Lily protested, being sure to keep her voice down. She looked over Marlene and Alice's heads and watched James stand by the drinks table, entertaining a large crowd of his fans. She could bet the conceited prat was just loving that. "I never liked him in the first place."

Marlene scoffed. "Oh please Lily, we saw the way you used to look at him back then."

"Back _when_?"

"You know, before he and Snape started bloody _flirting _with one another."

"Potter bullied him Mar," Lily said in a low tone. "Call it what it was."

"Way too much underwear stealing involved for that to not be called flirting," Marlene said under her breath.

"What Marlene means," Alice picked up, "is that before the little spat between the two of them got _really_ serious, we used to notice a few… looks that you would send his way. There was surely something there, at least back in, say, Third Year or so. Right Mar?"

Marlene nodded.

"There were no 'looks'. And that was a long time ago anyway," Lily said resolutely. "He was a bully and I couldn't stand him."

Marlene twigged on to her wording. "You're right, Lily. That _was_ a long time ago. You certainly don't seem to think he's that much of a bully now, do you?"

Lily very much wanted to get away from this conversation. And, with another innocent glance towards the drinks table, she saw where she would much rather be at that moment.

If only she could get away from these two first.

Then Sirius Black took his shirt off on the other side of the room, and Marlene and Alice's ogling eyes were drawn away from Lily.

Thank Merlin for alcohol.

And, with alcohol in mind, Lily quietly withdrew from her friends and wandered over to the drinks table. It was laden with alcohol that had somehow been smuggled into the castle from Hogsmeade by a group of ruckus boys, decidedly against her advisement.

She leaned forward to whisper deviously into the ear of one of those boys.

"I believe I owe someone a detention."

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Caradoc Dearborn held his head high and tried to act like he felt right at home in an underground complex filled with Death Eaters.

Ferox Goodman walked by his side, a handsome man who strode with the air of someone who always had a place to be and not enough time to reach it.

The two young men were aurors, and had known each other for a few months now. Ferox had become an auror only half a year or so after Caradoc, and they had risen in the ranks together over the last few months thanks to their partnership-of-sorts.

Not that they were here on actual auror business, though. No, strictly speaking Law Enforcement at the Ministry wasn't currently investigating the Death Eaters at all.

So when Caradoc and Ferox were asked by Albus Dumbledore himself to infiltrate the Death Eaters as _spies_, it had really been a very simple decision-making process.

And so here they were.

"You're walking like an auror," Ferox criticized. "Too stiff."

"We're supposed to walk like aurors you idiot. They know we're aurors. It's the whole reason they want us on their side in the first place."

"Yes but we're _bad_ aurors. Bad aurors walk differently."

Caradoc sighed. "We're walking the exact same way."

"No. You're just ambling along like you don't know what you're doing. _I _do. So I'm strutting."

"Shut up."

"I will not-"

"Shut up, we're here."

They turned the corner and the corridor opened up into a wide, expansive room filled with masked figures in black robes, waiting for them. Each masked head turned to look at them as they entered the dark room.

"Hello there," Ferox said cheerfully. "How do you do?"

"Shut up," said one of the Death Eaters near the center.

Ferox complied.

"We have been instructed," said another Death Eater to the left of the first one in a silky voice, "to evaluate the two of you. To check how trustworthy you are."

Caradoc stepped forward. "You talk of trust, yet you keep your masks on. Has the information we have already provided you with regarding the auror department not been enough?"

The eyes behind the mask watched him for a moment, almost calculatively, before the silky voice came again. "You are right, of course. I do this, then, as a show of faith."

A hand slid out of the black sleeve of the Death Eater's robe, rose to the mask and gripped the edges, coming down again with the mask held lightly between thin fingers.

Rodolphus Lestrange had high cheekbones, an angular jaw, and black eyes that bore into Caradoc's like a drill.

Caradoc worked to keep the surprise off his face. Already, he and Ferox could walk out of here and report to Dumbledore with enough information on the Death Eaters' business to change the tide of the war. This was proving to be quite fruitful.

"Now, _Caradoc_. Your wand, please." Rodolphus extended his hand, waiting. "You too, Ferox."

Caradoc pretended to look surprised. "You already know our names."

Rodolphous rolled his eyes and gave him a patronizing look. "Of course we do. Since we came into contact with you, we've had people following your every move. Recruiting two aurors is a big risk, after all."

Caradoc had twigged onto this quite quickly, of course. He'd almost attacked the Death Eater following him once he'd noticed, but stopped himself in time.

"Impressive," he said at last.

He drew his wand and handed it to Rodolphus. Beside him, Ferox hesitated.

"Why do you need our wands?"

Rodolphus raised an eyebrow. "You are aurors. We take no risks."

"What threat could the two of us be? There's what, fifteen of you? Just let us keep them."

Rodolphus' eyes flashed. "You do not seem to realize who you are speaking to with that tone."

"Give him your wand, Ferox," Caradoc muttered.

"We're not one of your Death Eaters. We don't answer to you." Ferox took a step closer to Rodolphus. Every Death Eater in the room raised their wands at him in an instant. Ferox took no notice, squaring up to the only unmasked face, almost nose to nose. "You can't boss us around."

"Is that right?" Rodolphus almost whispered.

"Ferox, shut up and do what he says _right now_." Caradoc reached out to pull Ferox back.

Rodolphus lifted his wand as quick as a flash and Caradoc, to his great surprise, found himself propelled back into the wall before he knew it. Restraints materialized, fixing his arms and legs in place.

"Ferox knows what he's doing, Caradoc," Rodolphus said softly. "You can't stop him. He's going to show us all who's really in charge, isn't that right Ferox?"

Ferox opened his mouth wide to respond, but got smacked to the ground before he could. It wasn't by Rodolphus.

A great, hulking Death Eater had stepped forward from Rodolphus' side and stood above Ferox. It had to be one of the largest people Caradoc had ever seen, standing almost as tall as Hagrid, the Hogwarts groundskeeper, and just as wide. A beefy hand the size of a frying pan reached up and pulled off the mask, revealing a beefy face the size of a beach ball. The big man smiled a sinister, crooked-toothed smile that reached up to his beady eyes.

Ferox groaned on the ground, rubbing his jaw.

Rodolphus' smile grew wide, and he stepped back to the far wall. All the other Death Eaters in the room followed suit, creating a wide, open space in the center of the room large enough to be a wrestling ring, just for Ferox and the great brute.

"Ferox, I'd like you to meet Koshulynsky. We brought him from Ukraine, and he handles… _discipline_, among other things for us."

Ferox got to his feet. Koshulynsky watched him, not making a move.

"You think I can't beat the snot out of him?" Ferox called to Rodolphus, a confident grin on his face. He took a step back and pulled his wand out, taking a moment to size his opponent up.

Rodolphus seemed amused. "I'd certainly love to see you try."

Ferox locked eyes with the brute, not moving a muscle. Koshulynsky waited, still grinning his dumb grin.

"Go on, then. Attack him," Rodolphous goaded.

"Ferox, give Rodolphus your _damn_ wand and back down," Caradoc said, not knowing why he was even bothering.

The pause that followed was long enough that Carodoc thought Ferox might have actually come to his senses. Just when he began to feel relieved, his friend struck.

"Stupefy!"

The spell thudded uselessly into Koshulynsky's chest. Now, Koshulynsky walked forwards, closing the small space Ferox had built between them dangerously quickly.

"Impedimenta!"

Koshulynsky froze for one brief, hopeful moment, before he started moving again, slowly at first but quickly returning to his initial pace.

"Incarcerous!"

Ropes bound Koshulynsky for half a second before snapping.

"Incendio!"

The smallest of flames began to erupt from Ferox's wand before Koshulynsky, the distance between them now fully closed, grabbed the end of the wand even as fire gushed out and he squeezed, snapping it in half.

The Death Eaters all laughed.

"I hope that teaches you a less-" Rodolphus began to say.

Ferox dropped the broken wand and jabbed at the big man's chin, having to reach way up. The shot had no juice and bounced off uselessly. Koshulynsky grinned.

"Ferox," Caradoc groaned.

Ferox still wasn't fazed, ducking under his opponent's attempt to grab his arm and sending a right hook to the diaphragm followed by an elbow to the ribcage. These also seemed to have no effect. He jumped back as another grab was made for him. The Ukranian strode forwards, boxing Ferox into a corner of the room, pushing him closer to the Death Eaters lining the wall who all quickly shuffled out of the way.

Before his back hit the wall, Ferox dived forwards, rolling between Koshulynsky's legs and, when he emerged behind his opponent he fired a kick to the groin. Koshulynsky caught the kick between his legs just before it hit the target and stepped over Ferox's outstretched leg as he turned around. He pulled the leg towards him with one hand and Ferox's eyes widened as the other giant hand rushed towards his face.

Ferox's head rolled back as the fist connected with his jaw and he flew some feet into the air before he hit the ground. For a few moments he didn't move. When he did, it was to lift his head off the ground and spit teeth out. A front tooth apiece, from his lower and upper rows each, was missing in his wry smile, as well as his lower left canine.

"Stay down," Rodolphus warned.

Ferox groaned. He spat out a bit more blood and leaned a hand on the ground to steady himself.

"Stay down, Ferox," Caradoc called, desperation finding its way into his voice.

Ferox moved to a crouch first, and then slowly and painstakingly stood. He raised his fists and spat more blood out. Didn't say anything.

Koshulynsky advanced again. Ferox weaved to the side, got behind the brute. He jumped onto his back, wrapped his right arm around the Ukrainian's thick neck until he could latch onto his left bicep and pushed with his left hand on the back of Koshulynsky's head.

Koshulynsky stumbled around for a few seconds, starting to gag, before he saw the easy way out and fell backwards.

In slow motion Caradoc's eyes widened and a shout of warning came from his lips, but there was nothing he could do.

Ferox disappeared between the ground and the body of the monstrous man, having only enough time to scream before he was covered by the giant.

There was a pause, as everyone watched Koshulynsky lay on the ground for a moment. Caradoc couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. The Ukrainian wiggled around on the ground with a sadistic, playful grin on his face. Then he stood. Blood was on his back. On the ground was Ferox's now mangled body.

Blood gushed. Bone protruded.

Ferox was still blinking up at the ceiling. Out of his broken jaw, an almost inaudible noise could be heard, a whispering, wheezing breath.

There was silence in the room for a moment other than this sound.

"Well," said Rodolphus eventually, "this thing won't be much use to _anyone_ now."

With a flash of green light, the noise stopped.

Caradoc still stared in disbelief at what was on the ground. Didn't notice Rodolphus striding towards him until the man was right in front of his face.

"I'm going to enter your mind now," Rodolphus said quietly, no gloating or mocking tone to his voice. "If I'm satisfied with what I find, I will release you, return your wand, and you _will_ serve us. If not… well, I'm sure you can imagine what's in store."

Caradoc didn't allow himself to process what he'd just seen. He scrambled internally to prepare his mind for invasion even as he began to feel a niggling sensation in the back of his head.

_He hated muggles. Disillusioned in the auror department and Ministry, Caradoc reached out to Death Eaters to try and make a positive difference in the world. He convinced his friend Fer- No, that person meant nothing. His death did not change Caradoc's resolve. His willingness to serve remained absolute._

The niggling sensation stopped and Rodolphus stepped back, satisfied. The restraints on his arms and legs disappeared, and Caradoc dropped from the wall to a crouch. His wand was handed back to him. And, just like that, he was in.

It was only later, after he'd sat down with Rodolphus, after he'd passed on more of the fake information Dumbledore had given him, once he'd found an empty corridor in this maze of corridors under the ground, that he gave himself a moment.

Just a moment.

Then, with a deep and shuddering breath, he let that moment pass, and did his job.

"Expecto Patronum."

A ghostly white fox appeared in front of him. It sat back on his hindquarters and looked up at him attentively.

A message to Albus Dumbledore, quick as it was concise. His tone was empty as he relayed the news of Ferox's death.

"-so I'll have to remain here for a little longer before I'm cleared to go, but they suspect nothing. I'll have a full report for you once I manage to get out."

He ended the charm and the white fox bolted off, fading into nothingness as it leapt into the air. Then, Caradoc turned to walk back the way he'd come, and was met with a sight that stopped him in his tracks. Standing down the end of the corridor was Koshulynksy. The big man took up the entire width of the corridor, and was easily within earshot.

"I don't suppose you speak a lot of English, by any chance? You hear any of that, big guy?"

Koshulynsky flexed his fingers before curling his hands into fists, and strode forward the same way he had when fighting Ferox. Before he killed Ferox.

Caradoc licked his lips, sizing the big man up. Then, he dashed towards him, pointing his wand not at the man but at the ground beneath Koshulynsky's feet. That ground changed consistency, turning into a mushy, muddy version of what had previously been wooden floorboards. The brute started slipping and sliding along the floor towards Caradoc. When they were close enough, Caradoc leapt into the air, bringing both legs up to his chest while Koshulynky tried to regain balance and, as Caradoc fell towards the behemoth, he kicked his legs out at Koshulynky's knee. With a jolt, the kneecap shattered as it took the monster's weight at the wrong angle, and Koshulynsky let out a deep, gravelly shout of pain.

Caradoc landed on his back and rolled to his feet, before launching himself up into the air again as Koshulynsky balanced on one leg and clutched at his knee.

Caradoc brought up his open palm, curled his fingers back, and hit the monster in the fleshy part of the throat with the base of his wrist. The throat gave way under pressure and, together with Caradoc's momentum, made Koshulynsky tilt backwards on one leg before falling to the ground head first. The giant landed on his back with a resounding thud, Caradoc on top of him.

Breathing heavily, Koshulynsky blinked up at him and opened his m-

_Wham_.

A punch to the face and the beast's nose was broken.

_Wham._

Another punch and Koshulynsky's eyes rolled back into his head.

_Wham._

The fight was over. Ferox's crushed body stayed fixed in Caradoc's mind. The lack of mercy his opponent had had.

_Wham._

He didn't feel better.

_Wham_.

He wouldn't feel better.

_Wham._

At least, not yet. This wasn't enough.

Caradoc reached for his wand and pressed it against the forehead of the hulking man. He panted, channelling his hate and loss and pain. He looked into the face of the man who had taken pleasure in killing his friend, the man who likely would have done the same to him.

The simple spell was on his lips. It would be so easy to do it. And it would make him feel better…

Except it wouldn't. And Caradoc knew that.

"Obliviate," he said.

_Koshulynsky walked down the empty corridor. Nothing to see. Slipped, twisted knee, fell on face, blacked out._

Weary, Caradoc got up. Koshulynsky looked rather peaceful to him, spread-eagled on the ground as though trying to make a snow angel on the re-hardened floorboards. Caradoc walked down the corridor, brushing himself off.

Infiltration successful.

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The Gryffindor Common Room, even in the earliest hours of the morning, was not empty. Moonlight left over from the night flooded in through the windows, shining on the unconscious forms of teens who would certainly not be in any state for classes in the morning, slumped on the ground or over tables or on the couches. Plastic red cups littered the floor, spilt firewhisky pooled by fallen bottles and stained the rugs and carpets, and all the lights had long since been extinguished.

Or at least, almost all the lights. The fireplace still crackled, very much lit.

If one looked in through the window, they would see two silhouettes by the fireplace, swaying to and fro. If one opened the window, they would hear music, coming from a battered record player sitting on the floor. It was a song by _The Imperios_, frowned upon by many older folk for its vulgar implications and at times jarring, raw sound. Admittedly, it was not an easy song to dance to. Its rhythm was wild, and its tempo inconsistent.

This didn't seem to faze the figures by the fireplace though, as they swayed to a rhythm that was very much their own.

If one climbed in through the window and stepped a little closer, they would see the figures more clearly. His messy black hair met by her fiery red locks would compliment each other rather aptly in this picturesque scene by the fireplace.

He would spin her out, and she'd laugh before he reeled her back in quickly, meeting her close in the middle. She, laughing harder then, would spin _him _out and reel him back in, making him twirl very delicately, comically. He would guffaw. She would snort in between giggles.

Then, they would meet in the middle again, and the silhouettes would grow closer, almost one.

Another step towards them and one would see arms curled around necks, foreheads resting against one another, noses almost brushing.

And small, peaceful smiles on both faces.


	8. Fanning the Flames

The new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Anton Windstrum, was handsome. Marlene was more than willing to admit that much. Clearly, she noted, her fellow female classmates had reached the same conclusion, if their sudden attentiveness and bright-eyed gazes were anything to go by.

Alice, sitting to Marlene's left, fanned herself with a fluttering hand and looked sideways at Marlene, flushing. "Dumbledore has fantastic taste."

Marlene snorted, hiding her face in her hands to muffle herself.

Professor Windstrum strode to the front of the class as all eyes locked on to him, and he introduced himself in a charming, likeable sort of way.

Marlene had stopped paying attention by that point. She only dimly registered the new teacher and James Potter entering into some sort of back-and-forth rhetoric that had the rest of the class chuckling and smiling. Potter seemed to respect the teacher, given that the two weren't yet on poor terms.

Marlene's inattentiveness was not of her own free will. Rather, the person sitting to her right was being somewhat of a pain.

"McKinnon," Sirius Black hissed, nudging her arm.

She ignored him, trying to pay attention to the new teacher.

"McKinnon, it's urgent!"

She sighed and looked at him. "What?"

He grinned devilishly as he leaned in. "There's an empty classroom down the corridor from here."

She stared. "How in the world is that urgent? What part of an empty room makes you think '_Oh wow, I can't wait to tell someone about this_', Black?"

He rolled his eyes and leaned closer. "It's not so much the fact that the room's empty, as much as the implications of what can be done in it."

"Like what?" Marlene raised an eyebrow.

"Like… well, like hooking up," Sirius said, his exasperated expression indicating he thought it had been obvious.

"Wait," Marlene held up her hand, just putting it together, "you mean with me?"

Sirius looked a little confused. "Well, yeah. We had a connection back in Diagon Alley, didn't we? I mean, we've been flirting non-stop for days now."

She processed this for a moment. He seemed to be waiting for her to agree.

"Well," she said, "this is awkward."

"What?"

"I thought we were just friends."

Sirius' mouth opened and closed. It was a second or two before he spoke again. "But… in Diagon Alley-"

"I healed you."

"You took my shirt off!"

"To _heal_ you."

Sirius looked more confused now, and didn't seem to know what to make of this.

"You're welcome," Marlene added as an afterthought.

"Yeah," he said after a moment, in a distant voice. "Thanks."

They both watched Professor Windstrum write something on the blackboard for a few seconds before Marlene felt the urge to test the water.

"You're fine with just being friends, right?"

Sirius looked pained. "I guess."

"Good."

Marlene faced the front again, ready to work.

"It's just," Sirius continued, "I thought there was room for us to be more than-"

"There definitely isn't, " Marlene said promptly.

"Right. But don't you think-"

"Nope. Just friends."

Sirius Black seemed unfamiliar with rejection. His face didn't crumple or anything pathetic like that, but instead it froze with a faded smile fixed in place.

"You won't be weird about this, will you?" she pressed.

"Nope," he said between clenched teeth.

Marlene rolled her eyes. "We'll work on that."

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"I hear the students have taken quite a liking to you," Professor Dumbledore said, surveying Anton Windstrum from over his lowered half-moon spectacles.

Friday evening found the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher in the Headmaster's study, settled into a chair and sipping tea.

"I noticed," Anton said with a wry smile. "Some of them have taken to following me around the castle. Normally I don't mind it, but it does get exhausting. I've taken to hiding in empty classrooms just to hear myself think - works for the most part, but a bit awkward when a couple bursts in."

Dumbledore smiled. "It hasn't been too long since _you_ were one of those students traipsing about the castle with ill intentions, if memory serves right."

"I guess so," Anton said with a snort, staring out the window and sipping his tea.

He waited for Dumbledore to address why he had really summoned him, aside from tea and a catch-up.

"I recall that you and Caradoc Dearborn were good friends, in your time as Hogwarts students," said the Headmaster.

"Of course," said Anton. "Haven't seen him since I got back to this continent last week, but I probably will soon."

"Sooner than you might think," Dumbledore said, leaning forward. "I have sent Caradoc to spy on the Death Eaters."

Anton's eyes widened, and he looked at Dumbledore in shock.

"He has infiltrated them successfully, but lost the partner I sent him with in the process. I need you to-"

"Why are you telling me this?" Anton exclaimed. "Just hold on a minute! What if I'm a spy?"

Dumbledore considered this for barely a second. "Are you a spy?"

"No."

"Splendid. Now I need you to serve as the middle-man between Caradoc and myself. I should have as little direct contact with him as possible while he is undercover. This is why I approached you for the role of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, your natural proficiency for defensive magic aside. I'll need you to assist and coordinate with Caradoc, as and when necessary, and report back to me. Naturally, this task must be prioritized after your duties as a Professor at this school, but I am sure that you're up for the challenge. Provided, of course, that you _are _up for it."

He stopped, and waited for Anton to respond.

Anton stared at him for a few seconds, taking a moment to let this news settle.

Dumbledore saw fit to prompt him. "Can I count on you, Anton?"

It was another few seconds before Anton even registered that he needed to respond. He stared for a moment longer, then shook his head a little and laughed in wonder.

"Well, yeah," he said. "Obviously."

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Lily was still in bed on Saturday morning, staring up at the ceiling, deep in thought in her empty dormitory.

James Potter, she realized, had changed.

She wasn't exactly sure when or why it happened, and she couldn't even really say what it was that_ had _changed. It was something subtle. Something at his foundations had changed in the most minute way, causing everything above to somehow shift and become… better.

"I like him," she said aloud.

Odd. That wasn't nearly as painful to say as she'd thought it would be.

The roof wasn't caving in, the world wasn't ending, and she wasn't even sure that if she walked to the window and looked out, she would see pigs flying.

It was just a normal statement. Completely mundane, and altogether trivial.

She liked James Potter.

But what did that mean? Did she like him _romantically_, or did she like him the same way she liked french toast?

"I enjoy being around him," she tried.

She let the statement hang in the air for a moment, and decided that it was the truth.

"He's attractive," she continued.

She didn't feel weird admitting that, though she would certainly never repeat it. He wore his messy-rascal look well, and she could see how one might find that endearing. If one were so inclined. And as of late, she conceded grudgingly, perhaps she _had_ been inclined.

"But he's still an arrogant toerag," she concluded.

Granted, she figured he wasn't as much of a bully as he used to be, but he hadn't seemed to shake off all his other questionable traits just yet. The arrogance, the stubbornness, and the steadfast refusal to follow the rules were all still very much there.

So then where did that leave them? Rather, her opinion of him? How did she feel about him?

She decided, rolling off her bed, that she couldn't quite be bothered figuring that out. It was too much of a headache. The very idea of her and Potter being more than they had already quickly become seemed like too much for her. She much preferred the idea of waiting, letting the current… state of things settle in before even thinking about moving on to whatever came next.

She walked down into the Common Room and out through the portrait hole feeling quite happy with where she'd landed on the matter, as she set about to look for her friends.

If James Potter continued his miraculous trend of self-improvement, then maybe she could reconsider. He was, after all, quite fond of surprising her.

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Severus loathed the company of idiots. They said things that irked him, and did things that perplexed him, and altogether left him with a bad taste in his mouth.

"I want to kill some mudbloods."

Prentice Travers was one such idiot.

For a would-be bully who used intimidation as a crutch, he was not particularly intimidating. He had a slight frame and a pointy face that really brought out the uninspired dimness in his eyes, and he talked and walked with the air of someone who didn't seem to notice the looks of intense dislike those around him would send his way. Like at this moment, for instance.

He stood beside Severus in the middle of a corridor on the third floor as they waited for Mulciber to join them.

"Do you ever feel that way, Severus? When you just hate something so much you feel this intense urge to be rid of it?"

Severus stared unblinkingly at him. "Yes."

"I thought you would. You and I are the same, really," Travers said, nodding to himself a little. "Wouldn't you agree?"

"Like two peas in a pod," Severus said, not removing his gaze.

"Yeah. Like that."

Travers was quiet for a few moments then, and Severus slowly looked away.

"We're like the brains of this whole operation," Travers said, glancing at him. "Mulciber and the others, they all know it. They answer to you because they respect you. So really they also answer to me. Because we're so similar."

Severus regarded Travers with no expression on his face. "They answer to neither of us, only to the Dark Lord. Those of us that he chose are to be his will at Hogwarts. There is no leader but him."

"Of course," said Travers, sounding somewhat impatient, "but amongst us, there has to be a leader. And they always listen to what you have to say."

Severus' gaze bore into those pale, dim eyes. "That is because I speak only when I have something of value to say. It is a trait that many people, myself included, hold in high regard."

"Yes," Travers nodded. "People also often tell me that I am like that. All the time."

Travers was saved from being the victim of an unfortunate accident, that no-one would be able to trace back to Severus, by Mulciber finally rounding the corner and walking up towards them.

"You sure took your time," Travers sneered.

Mulciber ignored him and nodded to Severus. "Alright?"

Severus didn't bother nodding back. "What kept you?"

"Detention," he snorted. "Longbottom doesn't like my use of the word _Mudblood_, I think."

"There seems to be a lot of that going around these days," Severus said, keeping the wistful tone from his voice. "Regardless, that's not what we're here for."

"Which raises the question, what are we here for?" Mulciber asked.

"Yeah," Travers piped up, clearly trying to contribute to the conversation. "Why are we here, Severus?"

Severus looked only at Mulciber when he answered. "Our job is to find more students who will join our cause. Our obstacle is any chance of a student reporting to Dumbledore what we tell them. Secrecy, good judgement, and discretion, therefore, are imperative."

Travers frowned. "That doesn't explain why we're meeting _here_, in the middle of some random corridor. Why not the Common Room?"

Severus didn't respond, merely stared at a spot on the wall that provided him patience.

Mulciber sighed. "He just said secrecy is important. We can't be overheard by any passers-by, Slytherin or otherwise. We can't risk it."

"Right," Travers nodded, like he'd been the one who had said it. "As long as you know that, Mulciber."

Severus decided that he didn't want to stick around these two for much longer. "Do your jobs. Be discrete. We'll meet again in a week."

He turned and walked down the corridor, leaving them to their squabbling.

Secrecy, of late, was something Severus had been valuing much more highly than he once had. It was what kept prying eyes far away from any secret meetings with his fellow Death Eaters. It was what kept his fellow Death Eaters oblivious to the tentative rekindling of his friendship with Lily Evans. And, most importantly, it was what kept Lily Evans from knowing that, presently, he was still very much a part of the Death Eater presence in Hogwarts.

For her, he would have to maintain this secrecy. This chance, as slim and impossible as it was, to be back in her good books needed to be preserved at all costs, at least until he could finally decide where he stood between serving the Dark Lord and loving Lily Evans.

So, until then, Lily could not learn about his continued involvement with the likes of Travers and Mulciber. He would have to make sure of that.

He turned a corner and bumped right into her.

"Hi," said Lily, stumbling, leaning a hand on the wall to regain her balance.

Severus didn't reach out to help her. She hated getting help from others.

She was looking at him, waiting for him to say something.

"Your cry of surprise, by default, is… hi," Severus stated, wanting to clarify.

"I'm friendly," she said defensively, crossing her arms.

He surveyed her, amused. "In that case," he said slowly, "hi."

She smiled. "Hi."

He stared at her for a few more moments.

Eventually, she cleared her throat. "I'll… well, I'll leave you to it then."

She made to walk past him - past him and right into the corridor with Travers and Mulciber.

"I've been meaning to talk to you," he blurted.

She paused and tilted her head curiously. "What about?"

He stared. "Potions."

"Potions?"

"Yes, potions."

She nodded slowly. "Anything about them in particular?"

"That-" he swallowed, "that Potions homework Slughorn gave us, it… uh, it sure is something else, huh?"

Severus never talked like this and she knew it. And he knew she knew it. But what he didn't know was whether or not she knew that he knew she knew it. She probably did though.

A warm, understanding smile spread across her face.

"Severus," she said, "are you asking if I'd like to study the Potions work with you?"

He nodded quickly. "Yes. That's exactly where I was going with that. Will you?"

She nodded back and laughed. "Of course. Let me go grab my stuff and I'll meet you in the library in, say, fifteen minutes?"

Severus nodded again, feeling silly. "Great. Brilliant. See you then."

She turned and walked quickly back the way she'd come.

When she was out of sight, Severus let out a breath he definitely knew he'd been holding.

Very few people in the world could rob him of his meticulous, surgical precision with words. And he would be spending his day studying with one of them.

The first true smile of the last few months spread across Severus' face.

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James could feel Sirius glaring at him, but he didn't look.

"And you flick your wand like this," he said, demonstrating, "and then wave it again like so. Make sure the waving is precise. Even a slight variation will lose you some marks."

The Fifth Years' heads went down as they wrote, some drawing a diagram of this specific hand-waving motion.

"Your examiners will be looking for the second flick - most people forget it, focussing instead on the wave. This spell, perfected, is the minimum requirement for Exceeds Expectations."

One of them, a Ravenclaw girl, raised her hand. "Does it contribute towards an Outstanding?"

"No," he said. "It's a given that you'll have it perfected for an Outstanding. Granted, they may ask you to perform it under varying conditions, which in turn could delve into Outstanding territory. It's not common, but they do that sometimes. I would just recommend practicing this spell as often as you can, the same with the other spells."

She nodded and made a note of this.

"Alright," he said, clapping. "That's everything for now. I'll meet you lot same time next week. If you have any questions, just give me a shout in the Great Hall or something. And make sure to bring some friends along next time, too."

The assortment of these six Fifth Years set about packing up and leaving the library.

Madam Pince was glaring at James. He probably shouldn't have clapped, but it had felt right.

Sirius strolled up behind him. "I can't believe you."

"I am unbelievable," James nodded.

"All that talk of having 'big plans', and 'a lot on your plate', getting me all excited, and you really just meant _tutoring_?"

"I said I have big plans _once_. Which I now regret."

"We're Marauders," Sirius grumbled. "We don't tutor, we prank."

James sighed. He looked across a few desks to where Remus was sat with some other Fifth Years, talking about Potions. Peter sat next to him, nodding along like he knew it all.

"We're brilliant, Padfoot. We should share that brilliance with the rest of the school."

"Yeah," said Sirius, "with pranks. And funny jokes."

James looked at him and frowned. "When we talked about this the first time, you said you were on board. You agreed that we can be better - that we can do better."

Sirius wrinkled his nose and clapped a hand on James' shoulder. "Of course I'm on board. I just didn't think it would be quite so boring."

James laughed and smacked Sirius on the back of the head. "If it was interesting, we'd have been doing it for years."

James glanced again at Remus and Peter, then turned to leave. The other two likely wouldn't finish any time soon, they'd started well after him.

As he and Sirius left the hushed tones and stacked shelves of the library, Sirius looked at him curiously.

James raised an eyebrow, prompting him.

"This whole 'be better' business," Sirius said, watching James closely, "it isn't just some dumb attempt to impress Evans, is it?"

"No," James said honestly. "The thought occurred to me too, but I don't think it is."

"You don't think?"

"I don't know, Padfoot. I'm playing this whole thing by ear. Since my Dad's had one foot in the grave, I've had to realign my priorities. I can't be a kid anymore." James looked at the floor as they walked, thinking. "And as a by-product, I get to help people. Lead them. I don't know, something about it all just feels _right _to me."

Sirius nodded, and then grinned. "And I suppose it doesn't hurt that it's helping you with Evans, either."

James knew exactly what he meant. "What do you mean?" he asked anyway.

"In the past week, the two of you have gone from being mortal enemies to being quite good friends. I have half a mind to be jealous, Prongs."

James laughed. "Yeah. It sure is unexpected, to tell you the truth. But I'm hardly going to complain."

"How many times have you asked her out?"

"Guess."

"Ten?"

"No."

"Eleven?"

"No."

"Merlin's beard you sly dog. Twelve?" Sirius asked incredulously.

James punched him. "None, idiot."

Sirius rubbed his arm and stared. "None? Well what have you been doing the whole time, talking about the weather?"

James shrugged. He didn't know how to explain it to his friend. "It's different now. I can feel it. It's a good friendship."

"Yeah, and it would make a bloody good relationship, I should think."

James shook his head. "Every time I involve my feelings when it comes to her, historically, it goes south."

"Well sure, in the past. But you two get along now. You've gotten all mature and boring for her. How could you mess it up?"

"The thing is," James started, really at a loss for how to make it make sense, "we've gotten along plenty of times before. That's not the hard part. It's keeping it that way, that's where I fail. And the point at which it always falls apart is when I get caught up in my _stupid_ feelings."

Sirius looked at him, unimpressed. "So you're just going to bottle it all up and be friends?"

"Exactly. And if I can get over her at some point and move on… then everyone wins."

Sirius stared at him for a second more before he looked away and grinned. "But you know that's not what's going to happen."

"Most likely not."

"You're going to lose your patience."

"I have been known to do that."

"I give it a few more days until you ask her out."

"I wouldn't be surprised if it happened _tomorrow_," James grumbled. He knew he had come dangerously close to making a move over the past week. "I guess I'll just have to work on trying to stay away."

Sirius snorted. "I suppose I'll have to help you, then. I can imagine you'll need it."

"You will do no such thing," James said with stern glance at his friend. "In fact, involve yourself as little as you possibly can."

Sirius held up his hands and laughed. "Alright, alright. You know you could really use my help, though. I just have a way with words is all I'm saying."

James could only shake his head.

Then, down the end of the corridor, impossibly, unbelievably, appeared none other than Lily Evans. She was hurrying in their direction and looked rushed.

"Hi James," she beamed when she saw him. She slowed down as she reached them.

"Hey," he said, smiling back as she stopped in front of them.

She turned to Sirius. "Black."

"Your Highness."

She rolled her eyes, smiled at James once more, then continued on her way.

When she was out of sight, James punched his friend on the arm. "Idiot."

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Saturday night found Alice brushing her teeth, the same as any other night. Then she flossed, rinsed, spat the fluoride, and gave her teeth another quick once over with the brush. Her dental care routine was rigorous, but bore results. Her smile was radiant and blinding.

"Black offered to hook up with me," said Marlene.

"Oh," said Alice, splashing water onto her face.

"It was a couple days ago actually, but since I rejected him he hasn't been talking to me as much," she added.

"You rejected him?"

"Um, yeah."

Alice turned to give her a funny look. "Why?"

"I mean," Marlene frowned, "well, why wouldn't I? We're just friends."

Alice's eyes widened. "Oh. I thought you guys were together, to be honest."

"What?"

"I thought the two of you have been hooking up since Diagon Alley," she shrugged. "Just from the signals I've picked up from you."

Marlene glared. "That's more or less what he said, too. Does everyone think Black and I have been together this whole time?"

Lily walked into the dormitory then, carrying armfuls of parchment containing what looked like their Potions homework. She looked rather pleased with herself.

"Lily," Marlene rounded on her, "what do you think of me and Black?"

Lily dumped the parchment on her bed and shrugged. "Cute couple, I guess."

Alice laughed, stuffed some things into a small overnight bag, and threw the strap over her shoulder.

"Now where are you off to at this hour?" Marlene complained, hands on hips.

"Staying the night at Frank's," Alice called without turning. "Lily, cheer Mar up, will you?"

As she started walking down the stairs to the Common Room, she could faintly hear Marlene interrogating the redhead. When she reached the Common Room, she turned and bounded up the stairs to the boy's dormitory, her bare feet slapping a quick rhythm onto the wood.

The Seventh Year boys each had the curtains of their four-poster-beds drawn when she reached the dormitory, and she tip-toed her way through strewn clothes and discarded junk on the way to Frank's bed.

She parted the curtains and slipped through, dumping her bag by the side of the bed.

He was already asleep, the lazy sod. His blonde hair was ruffled, his lips parted slightly, and his closed eyes were closed. Well, not for long.

She crawled under the blankets and sidled up to him, then jabbed him in the ribs. Hard.

He woke with a start.

"You went to sleep without me," she accused.

He looked round at her, then rolled his eyes and released a breath.

"Hello to you, too," he said, lying back down and wrapping an arm around her.

"Goodnight, more like," she said with narrowed eyes, nestling her head in the crook of his arm and resting a hand on his chest. She felt it rise and fall and she splayed her fingers.

"Good day?" he asked.

"It was alright, I guess. Oh hey, Marlene's going to try-out for Gryffindor tomorrow." She watched him raise an eyebrow.

"She plays Quidditch?"

Alice nodded. "And she's really good, so you better make sure James picks her."

Frank laughed. "If she's good enough, I'm sure he will."

"And if she's not?"

He snorted. "I wouldn't dare undermine James' authority. Especially now that I'm Head Boy. He'll probably see it as a personal attack and throw a tantrum."

"I think it's kind of cute when he does all that," Alice said with a smile. "I've always found his juvenile side oddly attractive. I wonder what that says about me..."

Frank looked at her with an unreadable expression. "Really? You think he's cute?"

"Yeah," she shrugged. "Of course. Have you seen the bugger?"

A grudging nod from Frank. "Yes, I suppose I have." He was quiet for a few moments before he spoke up again. "So who else do you think is cute?"

Alice thought about it for a second. "Ben Watts is quite dashing. Travis Powell from Hufflepuff seems like a decent candidate too."

"Candidate for what?"

"To date of course. I need to get back out there!" Then she frowned. "Or at least, I need to _get_ out there. I don't know if I was ever really there. I haven't dated since Third Year, and that hardly counts."

"Oscar Price," Frank grumbled.

"Oscar Price," Alice agreed. "The bastard."

"I warned you about him."

"You did, you did. And you also made sure to rub it in my face endlessly afterwards. And when you say you 'warned' me, it really just consists of you saying _don't do it, he's a Slytherin_. Disappointingly close-minded, Mr Head Boy."

Frank scowled. "I have no problem with Slytherins."

"Really?"

"I just have a problem with you dating Slytherins."

She gave a tinkling laugh.

"Shut up," groaned one of Frank's mates from elsewhere in the room.

"Sorry," Alice called back.

They went quiet. Alice closed her eyes and nuzzled her nose on his arm like it was a pillow.

"That tickles," he mumbled.

"Your arm is comfy."

"You say that every time."

"Because it's always comfy."

They were quiet for another few seconds before he whispered again, "I bet Ben Watts and Travis Powell don't have comfy arms."

She snorted. "Sure Longbottom, your arm reigns supreme. But it's not like I can date _you_, can I?"

There was something in his voice now that she couldn't quite place, or perhaps she was too tired to recognize it. "Why?"

"Why what?"

He hesitated. Or maybe he just forgot what he was going to say. She couldn't tell. "Never mind."

Just about asleep and not really paying attention anyway, she gave the smallest of nods. "'Kay."

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Breakfast was Severus' least favorite meal of the day. He couldn't properly place why, but he found something infuriatingly obnoxious about the style of the food. From kippers to toast, eggs to bacon. It all just seemed so insufferably cheerful.

Be that as it may though, when Severus sat down for breakfast that Sunday morning, he found that he didn't much mind.

He loaded kippers onto his plate, spread eggs across his toast, and even dabbled in a fair few slices of bacon. He was, if he even dared to say so, rather _jolly_.

And why shouldn't he be?

He had spent his entire Saturday in the library with Lily, pouring over Potions notes, collaborating with his only equal in the subject, talking to her, looking at her, simply spending time with the only person in his life who made him happy.

He was in quite the breakfasting mood.

"Hey," said Evan Rosier from next to him, "watch me jinx that Mudblood at the Hufflepuff table."

Rosier was in quite the halfwit mood. Which he was entirely entitled to, Severus supposed.

"Look at her! Her hair changed colors and she hasn't even noticed!"

"Very good, Rosier," Severus said, helping himself to more toast.

While Rosier sniggered to himself, Severus swept his gaze over the rest of the Great Hall. A few stragglers were only just making their way in for breakfast, stretching and yawning as they entered.

"Which Mudblood should I play with next?" Rosier asked thoughtfully, more to himself than anything.

Severus didn't answer. Lily Evans had just entered the Great Hall. She was accompanied by her friend, McKinnon, and laughing about something. As much as Severus enjoyed seeing her laughing, he tensed, chancing a glance at Rosier.

But Rosier had set his sights elsewhere along the Gryffindor table, at some Fourth Year girl, and Severus relaxed.

He went back to watching Lily. She was looking ahead, and he followed her gaze and narrowed his eyes. She was walking towards Potter, who stood looking deep in conversation with Frank Longbottom, close to where the rest of their friends were sitting and eating.

She stumbled as she approached him, and he looked around in time to reach out and catch her. His hands were on her hips, steadying her, and lingered a moment longer than necessary.

Severus waited for her to scold him. She hated getting help. She _hated_ getting help.

She smiled at him and said something. He laughed and said something back. Then she laughed too, said another thing, touched his arm, and walked on to where McKinnon had joined Alice Prewett at the table.

Severus frowned and looked away.

His gaze fell to the girl Rosier was jinxing. He took no pleasure in seeing Rosier's twisted idea of fun, but nor did he care much. As long as it kept the nutcase occupied, Severus really couldn't complain.

The girl yelped as the bacon in her plate slapped her in the face. A few people looked over at her but for the most part, this went unnoticed.

Rosier was snorting with laughter beside him. The bacon whacked her in the face again, harder, leaving a red grease mark on her cheek. Only one person looked over at her now. These sorts of things were rarely given much attention.

James Potter watched with a frown on his face. When the bacon coiled to strike her again he pulled his wand out and it dropped to her plate. She stared at it, utterly confused and not even noticing how Potter had helped her. She looked around, but Potter had already looked away. After a few seconds, she wiped her face and went back to eating.

Further along the table, another Muggle-born cried out in surprise as their spoon started whacking them over the top of the head. Along even further, a Muggle-born boy was going cross-eyed as he stared at his nose, which was rapidly changing color. Severus really hadn't a clue how Rosier knew which ones were Muggle-borns. Severus himself only knew because he made it his business to know such things - he had to in order to recruit on behalf of the Dark Lord.

With a wave of Potter's wand, each case of mysterious hijinks abruptly stopped. The Muggle-borns took a moment, looking utterly bamboozled, before they too shrugged and returned to their food.

Potter didn't. He looked over towards the Slytherin table and, of course, made direct eye contact with Severus immediately. Those hazel eyes, even at this distance, had a clear question in them. Severus held his gaze, pouring the full extent of his hatred into the cold stare as much as possible. Then after a few more seconds, Severus budged. He tilted his head, almost imperceptibly, towards Rosier.

He watched Potter's gaze drift towards Rosier, and then back to him. A small, equally missable nod from him. Then, as if nothing had happened, Potter looked away and jumped back into a conversation between Longbottom and Black.

Severus kept his gaze on Potter's profile.

The last time the two of them had made eye-contact, Severus had been trying to kill him. He had no doubt that Potter remembered this just as clearly as Severus did.

Severus tried to kill him, Potter fought back, and now they were simply at school. The contrast almost made him want to smile. Almost. After one more glance at Lily, Severus returned his gaze to his plate and found he wasn't quite in the breakfasting mood anymore. He glowered down at the plate full of happy food, and ate in silence. Rosier had at least grown bored of being a repugnant hooligan, and returned to his meal.

Rosier finished eating after a few more minutes, then got up and left the Great Hall. Quietly and suddenly, Potter got up and walked out after him.

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Remus watched James go curiously. He looked around to see if anyone else found their friend's abrupt departure strange, but he seemed to be the only one. Sirius was stuck in a conversation with Marlene looking somewhat uncomfortable, while Peter was staring up at the enchanted ceiling with a particularly absent look on his face.

Remus sighed.

"Chin up there, Lupin," said Frank from opposite him. "We've got a long day ahead of us."

Remus grimaced. "Don't I know it. Only James can turn Quidditch try-outs into a school-wide spectacle."

"Yeah," Frank said with a smile, shaking his head. "He certainly has a healthy appreciation for the spectacular."

"Healthy," Remus snorted.

"You're guaranteed to stay on the team," came another voice, "aren't you Frank?"

It came from a pretty blonde-haired girl with a kind, delicate face, who took this opportunity to settle into the seat next to Frank. Remus recognized her, if vaguely. Amelia Fawcett, a Seventh Year Gryffindor, reasonably well-liked and good-natured - he hadn't ever had much to do with her, but Sirius would talk about her from time to time.

"Of course," said Frank, smiling politely. "James wouldn't dare make us old hands try-out, he's too scared we'll revolt."

She laughed, perhaps a bit too loudly, putting a hand on his shoulder for a second before responding.

Remus looked away and smiled to himself, tuning them out. He certainly hoped he was reading those signs right - it was about time Frank had a spot of fun with a girl. At least, 'fun' in a different capacity to being Alice Prewett's best friend.

As Remus let his eyes wander around his friends, he could have sworn he saw Alice herself give Frank a funny look as he talked eagerly with Amelia. Perhaps he was simply imagining it, as she turned back to her conversation with Lily as though she hadn't looked at all.

Remus grinned at his plate, considering himself lucky to have avoided the abundance of drama that seemed to be creeping upon his friends.

He was distracted from his musings by Professor McGonagall striding towards them.

She stopped when she reached the group and waited until they were all looking at her before addressing them. "Your presence is required in the Headmaster's study, the lot of you. You are to meet there as soon as you've finished your meals."

"Even me?" Amelia asked.

McGonagall looked at her in surprise, only just seeming to notice her. "Oh, no. Not you, Ms Fawcett."

Amelia looked like she didn't know whether or not to be happy about this.

"Is this in regards to Diagon Alley at all, Professor?" asked Sirius.

The corner of McGonagall's lip twitched. "In part, yes, Mr Black." Then she frowned. "Where's Potter?"

"He walked off not too long ago," Lily piped up, surprising Remus. Although he supposed it really shouldn't have come as a surprise that she'd noticed.

McGonagall nodded. "And do you know where he'd have wandered off to?"

"I can probably find him," Remus offered. "I'll pass on to him to meet with you all at Dumbledore's."

McGonagall turned her frown on him. "And why would you not be joining us, Mr Lupin?"

Remus blinked in surprise. "Well… I didn't think I was, uh-"

"_All_ of you are to be there," she said sternly. "No excuses."

Then she turned and strode away.

"Nice try, Moony," Sirius said consolingly, clearly misinterpreting Remus' hesitance.

As the group finished their meals, got up from the table, and made their way over to Dumbledore's study, Remus couldn't help but feel out of place. The rest of his friends had been there at Diagon Alley, had helped, had risked their lives. And Remus hadn't done a thing. When the full moon had been less than two nights away, and while his friends were being heroes, he was alternating between being essentially comatose and effectively useless, unable to take even twenty steps before needing to sit down and get his head straight.

Not for the first time, Remus found himself wading in a sea of disconnection, separation, and estrangement from his closest friends.

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Liza Clarke was feeling resignedly displeased.

Both her parents were Muggles, and though she was only a Second Year she had already experienced a great deal of Muggle-born hate in this brand new world to her, without ever having so much as a say in the matter.

Needless to say, she felt rather hard done by.

So when Evan Rosier cornered her on the fourth floor, Liza was altogether unimpressed.

"What's wrong, little Mudblood?" he sneered. "You're not lost are you?"

"No," she said matter-of-factly. "I'm going to breakfast and you're in my way."

"Am I now? Sure you're not lost?"

"Quite."

"Because you see, last I checked, this was a school for _magic_. You don't belong here, girlie. So you must be lost."

She fixed him with a disapproving stare. "I received my Hogwarts letter on the eighteenth of July, little over a year ago, inviting me here. I have magic, and my teachers tell me I am quite gifted at it. Not only do I have the proof, but I also need not prove it to the likes of you. So, if that will be all, I'll be on my way to breakfast."

To her dismay, her words didn't seem to have done much good.

Rosier barred her way and slowly stepped towards her, pulling out his wand with a sinister smile. "You have a mouth on you, Mudblood."

Liza stepped back, the makings of panic seeping into her, followed quickly by an immobilizing fear. "What are you doing?"

"Me?" Rosier asked with a mocking smile. "I'm simply teaching a lesson. Nothing to worry about."

"Please don't hurt me," she said in a small voice.

His smile grew wider. "Oh, I won't hurt you. I don't want to get into _too_ much trouble for this."

"Oh, Rosier," said James Potter, leaning against the wall, "it's much too late for that now, isn't it?"

Rosier whirled around. "You!"

"Me," he nodded. He strolled forwards, towards them, and Rosier visibly tensed as he drew near. But he walked right past Rosier and stopped in front of Liza, crouching down in front of her. "Alright, Liza?"

"You're James Potter," she said, almost breathlessly.

"I am."

"You know my name," she added.

"I do."

"How do you know my name?"

He smiled, his eyes twinkling. "I can learn the names of everyone in this castle, if I so wish. As well as their whereabouts, but that's less impressive and more creepy, so we won't dwell on that. Think of it as my superpower."

She stared at him, wide-eyed, and said nothing.

"But you, Liza, are particularly important."

"I am?"

He stood and turned to face Rosier. "Oh, yes. You see, because of you, I now have the excuse I was looking for to punch our dear friend Rosier's jaw loose."

At this, Rosier seemed to find his tongue again. "You think you're so tough," he sneered.

James pondered this for a moment then shook his head. "No. I just really want to punch you."

"You can't trick me into duelling you, Potter. I know I won't win. You've been trained by the Head of the Auror Department since you were-"

"Who said anything about duelling?" James asked, tilting his head. "I said I'm going to _punch_ you."

Rosier hesitated, and then harrumphed. "You're probably just going to sucker punch me when I'm not expecting it, and then you'll run off to brag."

James looked at him for a few moments before sighing. He made a show of putting his hands behind his back and tilting his face towards Rosier. "I'll let you start then, how about that? Free shot, Rosier. Go ahead."

Rosier stared. He seemed hesitant, wary of some sort of trick.

James sighed impatiently. "Go on. Punch me, Rosier. I'm trying to be a better person, so I can't just beat you senseless in good conscience anymore without _some _provocation. Now do it. But you'd better give me your best shot, because if you don't, I promise you _I_ will."

Rosier still seemed cautious. Another few moments passed, the gears turning behind his eyes, and Liza half expected him not to do anything.

Then, with no warning, Rosier lunged forward and connected his fist with Jame's chin, hard. James' head flew back and his feet left the ground, and he fell onto his back.

Rosier stayed in his stance for another moment, looking almost surprised that he'd actually done it, before standing up straight with a smug expression sliding onto his face.

He took half a step forward and then stopped, his smug expression wiped clean off, when James started laughing from where he was on the ground, not even making to sit up yet.

Rosier stared, at a loss for words.

James slowly started to sit up, rubbing his jaw with one hand and still laughing. "That was really your best shot?"

Rosier frowned and looked ready to attack again when a clear voice rang out through the corridor.

"Rosier, detention!"

Liza turned to see Professor Windstrum walking towards them, fixing a cold stare on Evan Rosier.

Rosier whirled around and glared. "What for?"

Professor Windstrum raised an eyebrow. "For punching a student?"

"He told me to!"

Windstrum shrugged. "Detention for jinxing all those students in the Great Hall just now then. Whatever. Just get out of here. You'll spend the rest of the day in your Common Room, and report to Professor McGonagall first thing tomorrow morning. She has desks that need cleaning."

Rosier surveyed him for a few moments. Liza almost thought he was going to spit at him. Instead, after a couple more seconds, he scoffed, and walked away.

Once he was out of sight, Windstrum looked at Liza and jerked his head the other way.

"Off with you then, Liza. Breakfast won't last much longer."

She nodded quickly, looked back one more time at where James was still sat on the ground, and then ran off for a well-deserved meal.

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When she was gone, James massaged his jaw and looked up at Professor Windstrum from where he sat. He shuffled to the side and rested his back against the wall. "You let him go," he said dully.

Windstrum watched James with something of a smile on his face before he abruptly dropped down to sit next to him, and he too rested his back against the wall. "I did."

James scowled. "So I let him punch me for no reason."

Windstrum grinned and looked at him. "You did."

James glared at the ground. He wasn't feeling particularly pleased with Anton Windstrum just then, and he didn't take long to voice why. "A detention, Professor? Really? That's the punishment you saw fit for him?"

Windstrum merely shook his head. "Your inexperience is showing, James. You've tasted war, and you want to fight-"

"I have to fight."

"No, you _want _to fight. You know full well you could have simply stood between Rosier and dear Liza, and he would have backed off without much fuss."

James scowled again. "Fine. I wanted to deal out a little justice. So what?"

Windstrum shrugged. "Like I said, it just shows your inexperience. You're not thinking long term."

James raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"Let's say this all went exactly how you saw it going. You punched Rosier's jaw loose, beat him to a pulp even. Liza runs off happy and safe, and you go on to your Quidditch try-outs without a second thought. What happens when Rosier recovers? Do you think this humiliation will make him less likely to bully Muggle-borns in the future? Or more?"

James didn't answer.

"We fight when we need to, James. Where there's another way, and especially when there's a _better_ way, we should always take that route. You need to think more carefully about the consequences of your actions. What would you have done if Rosier went on to attack more Muggle-borns because of you?"

"I'd stop him in time, just like now."

"I know that you're smart enough not to believe that's possible. You can't save them all. And when you fail, the consequences are on your own head."

James looked at him dubiously. "And you think giving him a _detention_ is the solution then? You think he won't just go on to be a menace anyway?"

Windstrum shrugged again. "There's no simple solution to magic away all our problems. But a detention, at the very least, won't fan the flames."

James jerked his head. "I guess."

A few seconds passed then, and they both looked at the opposite wall, thinking.

"I feel weird giving you a lecture," Windstrum admitted. "I'm not very much older than you, you know."

James looked at him. "I figured as much. What are you, twenty-two?"

"Twenty-three," Windstrum corrected. "And not nearly qualified to be teaching."

James smirked, but didn't interrupt as he continued.

"Granted, I've always been brilliant at Defence Against the Dark Arts, so that's not an issue. But I've just spent the last five or so years travelling around the world, not even coming near any sort of academic environment. So being back here is rather jarring, to be honest."

"I'm sure you missed it," James reasoned.

Windstrum laughed. "Oh, undoubtedly. I was the king of these corridors in my day. My friend Caradoc and I may as well have had thrones here. Not unlike yourself and Sirius Black, in fact."

James scoffed. "Not half as brilliant."

Professor Windstrum laughed again. "Perhaps not." There was another small, easygoing silence then before Windstrum spoke up, as if he'd just remembered. "Oh, Dumbledore wants to see you in his office."

"What? What for?"

"Not for anything bad, don't you worry. In fact, I imagine you'll quite like it. Your friends should all be gathered there by now, so you'll want to hurry I think."

James stared for a moment, before getting to his feet. "You're sure?"

"Of course. Fizzing Whizzbees."

James nodded. "You too."

He set off down the corridor. He turned back when Windstrum called his name, raising an eyebrow.

"Just remember, James. It may be a war, but being a _warrior_ is about more than just fighting."

He nodded slowly, waiting to see if Windstrum had anything more to add. When Windstrum inclined his head in dismissal, James turned again and made his way to Dumbledore's office.

"Fizzing Whizzbees," he said to the Gargoyle statue, and it stepped out of his way. He stood on the circular, moving stone staircase, still thinking about all of Winstrum's words.

At the top, he walked into Dumbledore's study and was greeted by the sight of all his friends - Sirius, Remus, Peter, Frank, Alice, Marlene, and Lily - standing in a row before Dumbledore's desk, behind which sat Dumbledore himself, with McGonagall standing by his side.

They all turned as James walked in.

"Ah, James," Dumbledore said, clapping his hands happily. "We've been waiting, my dear boy. Now, shall we begin?"

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**A/N: I really, really crave feedback for this one, not least of all because of how long it took me to write the gosh darn thing. Golly. Write that review, send a doctor, lend me your mind, dear reader!**


	9. Frankness

"I have summoned each of you here today," said Dumbledore, "to ask a favor."

James raised his eyebrows in curiosity and looked around at the others, seeing similar expressions on their faces.

"This favor, while not necessarily dangerous, may eventually lead to danger. Your involvement, therefore, is entirely in your own hands, and you must feel no obligation to participate." He waited a moment and looked at each of them, as though expecting one to turn and leave, before he continued speaking. "Now, to the heart of the matter. As I am sure you all are aware, some of the students in this castle have, most regrettably, become Death Eaters. It is my belief that those students will spend their time here trying to recruit others to join their cause, and I can not stress enough how much I wish to prevent this from happening."

James nodded slowly, guessing where Dumbledore was going with this. Around him, the others also seemed to be twigging on, nodding too.

"Therefore, what I am asking of you all is simply to keep an eye out and, when necessary, intervene. This might mean paying close attention to particular students, perhaps even keeping tabs on their movements and who they might be talking to. This is a big request for me to make, and could potentially even put any and all of you in a dangerous situation in case of some unfortunate turn of events. This is why I have chosen to address this with you all in particular. Your actions in Diagon Alley, not even a week ago, reflect your willingness to help, as well as your bravery, resourcefulness, and refusal to stand back and watch something terrible unfold."

James said nothing as he surveyed Dumbledore, thinking hard. So Dumbledore knew full well that some of his students were Death Eaters. Yet, for some reason, they were still allowed to be his students. He hadn't cracked down on them at all, interrogated them, or even broached the matter with them. Why was he allowing them to even have the _chance_ to recruit other students? Why was he allowing them to stay at this school?

James didn't voice these thoughts, as Professor Windstrum's words from not even ten minutes ago were still running through his mind. Was this what it meant to think _long-term_?

So James thought about it. What would happen if Snape and the others were expelled? Well, he figured, they certainly wouldn't have a miraculous change of heart, that was for sure. If anything, they would be set even further upon a path of vindictiveness and cruelty. They would really just turn out even worse. So was the best thing to do… nothing?

No, he realized. Clearly, Dumbledore wasn't doing nothing - his solution to the problem was simply more nuanced than James' would have been. This, right here, was how Dumbledore had decided to combat those Death Eaters, and this was James' opportunity to be a part of the solution the _right_ way. Significantly less violent and action-packed, but it was _right_.

"Well, you know I'll help," said Frank with a small smile.

James nodded firmly. "Me too."

"And me," added Lily.

One by one, they all voiced their pledge to help, and Dumbledore inclined his head at each of them, smiling like he expected nothing less from the group.

"Now," he said, "this is no excuse to go around breaking rules. Of the lot of you, only Mr Longbottom, Ms Evans, and Mr Lupin have permission to be patrolling the corridors at late hours." He looked significantly at James and Sirius as he said this. "And I certainly don't expect this to get in the way of your studies."

They nodded once more, some of them looking somewhat sheepish.

With all said and done, he dismissed them. They turned and made to file out of the office.

Remus lingered behind them all, and James glanced back to check on him inquisitively.

Remus jerked his head and gave him a reassuring look, so James nodded and left with the others.

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With the last of them gone, Remus turned back towards Dumbledore.

He'd expected Dumbledore to look curious or confused, but instead the Headmaster smiled knowingly, his eyes twinkling behind half-moon spectacles.

"I have something to say," Remus said, his voice not giving away any emotion.

"Of course," said Dumbledore. "Minerva, if you please."

McGonagall looked at Dumbledore in surprise, but quickly masked it and nodded. She walked around the desk and left the office, leaving just Dumbledore and Remus.

Remus looked at Dumbledore and Dumbledore simply looked back, waiting. "I shouldn't be here," Remus said eventually. "In this office, I mean. I wasn't there that day. I didn't help or prove myself or show you that you can put any sort of trust in me. Really, I'm in this office right now simply by association. Because my _friends_ are exceptional."

"You wouldn't call yourself exceptional?" Dumbledore asked, sounding almost sad.

Remus laughed humorlessly. "In the most literal sense, I suppose I am. The boy that turns into a bloodthirsty beast once a month. How quaint."

"And what about Remus, the Prefect, the scholar? Is he not exceptional?"

Remus said nothing.

"The caring boy who only wants to do the right thing? The clever boy who is, I dare say, one of the four most notorious students this school has ever seen? The honest boy, full of integrity, who walked into my office today determined to prove how unworthy and undeserving he is of my trust?"

Remus opened his mouth to retort but was cut off as Dumbledore continued.

"The boy who, in doing so, gained my trust more fully and implicitly than any amount of life-saving and wand-waving could do?"

Remus closed his mouth and stared.

"If you are willing, I have a special task specifically for you, Remus. One that, granted, can only be taken up by someone with your lycanthropic affliction, but at the same time, were you not a trusted and valued ally, it is a task I would not have otherwise given to you."

Remus blinked, surprised at how quickly Dumbledore had switched from reassuring him to offering a seemingly very important job.

"Now, there will likely be some danger involved, but nothing I don't think you can handle. Can I count on you, Remus?"

"Of-Of course," said Remus, hesitance giving way to his eagerness to seize this opportunity to _do_ something, to help, to finally give his own contribution to the cause.

"Excellent. Professor Windstrum will be in touch with you to discuss the matter further. But for now, go enjoy your day, Remus. That is, I'm afraid, an order."

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Sitting across from one another in the armchairs by the fireplace of the Gryffindor Common Room, Lily stared at James.

"You have a bruise on your chin," she told him.

He reached up and rubbed the mark, but didn't look surprised. "Does it make me look dashing and adventurous?"

"No. It makes you look bruised."

His face fell. "Really?"

She hesitated. "Well I mean, looking bruised can still be charming. In a sad, defeated sort of way, you know?"

"Right, yeah," he said, wrinkling his nose.

She smirked at him. "So how'd you get it?"

"I got punched," he said shortly.

"Yes, I gathered. By who?"

"Some guy."

Lily waited, but he didn't elaborate. She couldn't help feeling a little disappointed. She had really wanted to think he'd grown up - for her own, selfish reasons if nothing else.

Even now, sitting across from him, she felt an unmistakable attraction. She'd already decided that she liked him as a person_, _as a friend, but in this moment, watching him ruffle his hair in a poor attempt at nonchalance with the fireplace lighting the angles of his face, a part of her liked him as something _more_ than a friend. Perhaps it was a small part, but it was definitely there.

Lily could even pinpoint multiple other times this past week when she'd felt the same way. She would look at him and just _feel_ something, something indecipherable in the pit of her stomach, and it made her feel happy.

But then she'd get a sign. A sign that he hadn't grown up quite as much as she thought he had. A sign that he wasn't yet the kind of person that she could think of as someone more than just a friend, someone whose decisions and lifestyle and choices she could abide by, could stomach.

He was still someone who got into fights and bullied, someone arrogant and churlish.

"Did he at least have it coming?" she asked eventually.

James looked surprised. "Oh, I didn't harm a hair on his head. He just punched me."

She blinked at him, her thoughts coming to an abrupt halt.

He rubbed his jaw wistfully, looking annoyed at the fact, and she believed him.

"Did… _you_ have it coming?"

"No! I-" He hesitated. "Okay, I told him to punch me in the face-"

"What? Why?"

"Look, it's complicated and I'd rather not talk about it. How's the weather?"

She stared. "Good."

"Grand."

"You told him to punch you in the face?"

He scowled. "It was an intimidation tactic."

"Do you think bruises are intimidating?"

"We're not talking about this."

"But I just want to know-"

She was interrupted by someone clearing their throat behind her. James' eyes flicked over to the person and his face fell infinitesimally before he steeled it, and Lily turned in her seat to see McGonagall by her shoulder, looking at James appraisingly.

"Potter."

"Professor."

"It has come to my attention that you have scheduled Quidditch try-outs for tonight."

He nodded. "Yep."

"Quidditch try-outs," she repeated.

"Yes."

"At night."

"That's the plan."

She narrowed her eyes. "You are aware, of course, that no students are to be out of bed after hours?"

"I am," he nodded. "But I was hoping we could make an exception. You should see what I've got planned, Professor. It's going to be more than just Gryffindor try-outs. We're going to have picnic mats and blankets set up all over the grass of the Quidditch Pitch, the whole school can camp out all night and watch us, or sit in the stands and watch us, or do whatever they want while they spend _all night watching us_."

McGonagall raised an eyebrow.

"Professor, I've turned Quidditch try-outs into a _social event_. It's unprecedented, unexpected, and frankly brilliant. Surely, as Head of Gryffindor House, you can see the value and appropriacy of Gryffindor being centre stage while the rest of the school watches in admiration and adulation-"

"Potter," she cut in, clearly running out of patience, "what you seem to have forgotten, in what is likely your most noble and thoughtful attempt at self-indulgence yet, is that to have most of the students of this school all in one place after hours, you will need prefects and members of staff there as well to maintain some modicum of order."

James nodded, giving the impression that he'd seen this point coming. "Frank will be there," he said with a grin. "You know, Head Boy and all that."

"Yes, Potter, I am aware of who Frank Longbottom is. I am also aware that he is on the team, and will be in no position to keep watch properly."

James hesitated. "Remus is-"

"Mr Lupin is one person, Potter. Is your entire plan really dependant on a solitary Lupin and a distracted Longbottom being in charge of hundreds of students?"

It didn't look like James had an answer to that.

Lily gave a resigned sigh and cleared her throat. "I'll be there, Professor. I can rustle up some of the other Prefects to help me keep an eye out, most of them planned to go anyway. We'll be happy to help."

McGonagall's eyebrows rose high into her hairline - she clearly would never have thought Lily Evans would come to James Potter's defence. Frankly, neither had Lily.

"And I can hold you accountable for the outcome of the night, Ms Evans?"

Lily grimaced. "I suppose so."

McGonagall turned back to James. "I don't like how you've gone about this, Potter. I still have half a mind to simply shut it down."

Now James looked like he'd definitely seen this coming, and he offered a devious smile. "Professor, it's Sunday already and Gryffindor is the only house that hasn't held try-outs yet. Now, it's midday and I can't guarantee a change in schedule would reach all the right ears in time."

McGonagall's eyes narrowed as James' smile widened.

"It looks to me like it's in Gryffindor's best interest to proceed as scheduled. It would certainly be less damaging than to make us wait a whole extra week before holding try-outs, a whole extra week before we have a full team. As far as I can tell, it looks like this is our only option."

Lily couldn't believe how devious he was. He had purposely left try-outs this late, kept his plan under the radar for this long, so that McGonagall would have no choice but to allow it.

Professor McGonagall's eyes were still narrowed, but Lily could have sworn she saw her lips twitch. "Very well, Potter. I know when I've been outplayed. Have your night, but just know that every student who walks in late to my class tomorrow morning will each lose Gryffindor ten points."

And with that, she walked off.

A triumphant smirk began to spread across James' face, but was cut short when McGonagall's voice reached them again from the portrait hole.

"And you'll serve a detention tomorrow evening, Potter. I don't appreciate being played for a fool." James looked a tad less smug, and she continued. "Though I understand this is your first detention for your Sixth Year. Consider me… proud."

She stepped out and the portrait closed behind her.

A tentative grin spread slowly across his face. "Believe it or not, that was probably the best case scenario."

Lily could only shake her head. "You never cease to amaze, Potter."

"Hm, I really don't, do I?"

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Seven-thirty at night had seemed a bit late to make an entrance, Peter had thought. To James, it was still too early.

At eight-thirty, Peter started to get anxious. He sat on his bed and drummed his fingers on his knees. James was lounging on his own bed, flipping through a magazine.

"How about-"

"No, not yet, Pete. It's still not late enough for us to be _fashionably_ late."

Eight-forty was when Peter got really restless and started pacing the room, and eight-forty-five was when James finally gave in and they headed down to the Quidditch Pitch.

"If anyone important arrives after us, it'll be on your head, Pete," James warned.

Peter looked at him curiously. "Since when do you care about that sort of thing? You're being very dramatic about this whole affair, James."

James looked torn for a moment before he sighed. "I'm going to ask out Evans tonight."

Peter looked at him quickly but didn't say anything.

"I keep changing my mind about it, to be honest. But now I'm set. Now I think she might actually say _yes_. I don't know, Pete, I've just got a… a feeling. You know?"

"Not particularly."

James sighed again. "You can't change my mind."

"I wouldn't even try. I wouldn't have a clue what to say, really."

"Good. Because it can't be changed."

"Well, alright then."

A slight pause.

"But you think I shouldn't do it?"

"I really couldn't say-"

"We are working really well as friends…"

Peter waited a moment to see if he'd add anything. "Well if that's what you-"

"No. I'm doing it."

Peter sighed. It was like James was in Fourth Year all over again - the unsureness, the nerves, the smallest hints of fear. Peter had almost forgotten how frustrating it was, as awful as that sounded. He let his friend ramble on in much the same fashion until they reached the Pitch.

Peter had to gasp as they walked in. It was, and there was really no other word for it, _spectacular_. What must have been half the school sat on various little picnic rugs on the grassy Pitch, wrapped up in blankets with baskets of food scattered all over, like a giant hand had opened above the Quidditch Pitch and sprinkled down baskets and rugs and blankets and laughing, talking, buzzing people, all for the benefit of the Gryffindor Quidditch try-outs. There were also plenty of people gathered in the stands, with more blankets and food. Peter looked up at the very tops of the stands and saw six orbs of bright light spread around the circumference of the entire Quidditch Pitch, illuminating the whole Pitch like floodlights at a stadium.

Music played, from where Peter couldn't say, but it emanated all around the Pitch with no clear source or direction and while it was definitely not quiet, it was also somehow just quiet enough that everyone seemed to be perfectly content with the volume. It must have been a spell of Sirius'. It worked wonders - the atmosphere couldn't feel more alive.

He saw Sirius handing out hot drinks at a stand in the middle of the Pitch, and when he saw James and Peter enter he turned quickly and waved his wand in the general area of the top of the stands above them.

It couldn't have been more perfect for James, Peter knew.

Filibuster's Fireworks sparked and blasted into the air above them, popping and cracking with wild bursts of color into the night sky, and every head turned to see James and Peter walk in.

Then, as if it couldn't get any better, they all started clapping and cheering. An entire school celebrating his entrance had James' lopsided grin as smug and as wide as it ever could be. James waved to them all, and Peter gave a half-hearted nod to no-one in particular.

"Sonorus," James said quietly, his wand held to his throat. The crowd quietened down gradually, waiting. Then, in a voice that filled the Pitch and likely carried over to the castle too, James addressed them all. "Did I get here in time?"

The cheering instantly picked back up, louder than before, and Peter almost wanted to cover his ears. But goodness, James sure did know how to work a crowd.

"Alright, alright." They quietened again, and James now oozed with confidence. "Try-outs will start in a half-hour or so. I want to grab a bite to eat, and then we'll get straight to it. All hopefuls can get in the air now if you want, warm up and all that. The rest of you, just sit back, relax, and enjoy the show."

After another hearty cheer, the buzz of enthused chatter filled the Pitch once more.

Peter followed James over to an unoccupied mat, and they dropped down onto it.

"Don't you want to go find Lily?" he asked, leaning his elbows on the ground behind him.

James grinned lazily and nodded somewhere ahead, and Peter craned his neck to see Lily Evans walking towards them with a wry smile on her face. "She'll come to me of course, Pete. She _has_ to after all that."

Peter didn't like the way that sounded. He watched his friend closely, saw that smirk, the same smirk he used to wear in Third Year, whenever he was nervous, about to talk to Lily, and invariably made a fool of himself. False bravado; an over-compensation. It seemed like natural progression to Peter. James only knew one way to be romantic with Lily, and it was not a good way. "James," he hesitated, and then continued quickly, "I don't think you're doing this right. I think you're looking at it all wrong right now, you're regressing, maybe because you're nervous and scared. You should take some time to-"

"Nonsense, Pete," James said, eyes only for Lily. "There's no better time than the present."

She reached them and dropped down to sit next to James with a sigh. "Bit self-indulgent, all this, Potter. If I didn't know any better I'd call you an arrogant toerag."

He smiled. "Thank goodness you know better."

She hummed. "Perhaps."

They were quiet for a few moments, and Peter stared at the ground.

Fireworks were still going off in the sky, and would likely go on for another ten minutes - the Marauder's Filibuster's supply was vast. People ooh'd and aah'd all around the pitch.

"I'll admit," said Lily, "you know how to put on a show."

"I have a keen eye for beauty," he said, staring at her.

There was a pause. Peter didn't look, so he didn't know if she was blushing or not.

"Potter…" she said eventually.

"Evans," he said, his voice low.

Peter looked now, and watched James lean closer to her and his eyes widened as Lily leaned away from him.

"Potter, don't."

"Go out with me, Evans."

"No."

"Go on," he said, as if asking for a favor and leaning in again.

"No, Potter. Why are you doing this? Why do you have to-"

James' demeanor very quickly changed from what he must have thought was charming to what was very much not so. He looked offended, and hurt, but mostly like a child who had been promised sweets from the shops and hadn't gotten any. "What could your excuse possibly be this time, Evans? I haven't touched a hair on Snape's head-"

"Merlin, Potter! Does it not occur to you, after you say all these _stupid _things, that I just don't want to go out with you?"

"Why not?"

"Why n…" she repeated, looking at him in disbelief which very quickly turned into a boiling, red-faced anger. "Because of this! Moments like this, right now, that's why I don't want to go out with you. Merlin, just when I think you've stopped surprising me, you go and pull _this _out of your arse!"

"Should I go?" Peter asked, feeling very awkward.

"Yes, bugger off please," James said through gritted teeth.

"No, Peter," snapped Lily. "Stay. I want you to hear how much of a complete and utter _prat_ your friend is."

"Well, I'm not going to stay and listen," James growled, getting to his feet.

"Yes, you do excel at disregarding anything others might have to say," Lily retorted, getting to her feet too.

He snorted, she harrumphed, and they both pivoted and walked away in opposite directions, leaving Peter sitting alone on the mat feeling somewhat silly.

He looked around for someone he recognized, not knowing what else to make of the situation. Not far from him, Alice Prewett sat alone on her own mat, looking off into the distance. With a sigh, Peter got up and walked over, sitting down next to her. "At least you're not being stressful and dramat-"

"I hate Amelia Fawcett," she said. Peter followed her gaze to see Frank Longbottom and Amelia standing around, chatting. Frank was leaning on his broom, smirking, and her hand was on his arm. "She's stupid."

Peter frowned. "Her grades are quite good, from what I know."

"She has a stupid face."

A hesitation. "I suppose, as far as faces go, it… might… be stupid."

She grunted.

He really didn't know what else to say.

After perhaps a few more seconds, she scoffed and stood up. "I can't even watch anymore."

Then she walked away.

Peter sighed one more time and looked up at the sky. It was a very pretty night.

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Lily plopped down next to Marlene, and Alice joined them not a moment later.

"Boys," Alice spat.

"Boys," Lily agreed, louder than she'd intended.

"They only want one thing," Marlene nodded sagely.

The fireworks were still going. Lily would have found them stunning, were she not completely fed-up with anything Marauder-related.

"I'll never go out with Potter," she declared.

Alice raised an eyebrow. "Never?"

"Never ever."

Alice eyed her cautiously. "Say another girl came into the picture, started getting too friendly with him…"

"I'd feel sorry for her," she said shortly.

Her friends were quiet at that. After a moment, Marlene spoke up. "That sounds like a never ever to me."

"It does indeed," Alice said.

"That's because it is." Lily crossed her arms and scowled.

After another few seconds, Marlene turned to Alice. "And what's got you worked into a frenzy?"

Alice seemed to consider the question, then narrowed her eyes when she settled on an answer. "Boys."

The other two nodded.

"The bastards."

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To James, the party had officially died. Although no-one else seemed to think so.

"Alright, Potter?"

He ignored whoever that was as he walked to the changing rooms.

"Hi, James!"

"Shut up," he mumbled.

Peter had been right, of course.

_Idiot, idiot, idiot, idiot._

Did he even deserve her? Well, certainly not after that little performance. Merlin, was that his last shot at her? It felt like it. Could his run with Evans be over? It shouldn't be, but something about that conversation just then… it _really_ felt like that was it. "Idiot!"

He sat down on a bench and lay his broom on his lap.

Frank walked in then, looking far too pleased with himself. "Alright, Captain?"

James snorted and shrugged, dripping frustration.

Frank didn't seem to notice. He opened his locker and rummaged around, and as he did, he hummed to himself.

James sighed. "Out with it then, Longbottom. Why are you in such an insufferably good mood?"

Frank looked surprised at the question, and shrugged. "Nothing, really." He hummed to himself again, and then stopped and looked at James. "Amelia Fawcett sure is a treat, eh?"

"I suppose so… Frank, are you - are you _interested_ in her?"

Frank flushed. "I guess. At the very least, she's interested in me."

"And Prewett?"

The color returned to Frank's face. "She is decidedly _not_ interested in me."

"And are you still interested in her?"

Frank shook his head firmly.

When James still looked doubtful, Frank pressed the matter. "Really, I'm not. It's my last year here. I don't intend to waste my time anymore. Amelia likes me, and she's great. That's all there is to it now."

James nodded slowly, and felt glad that his friend at least seemed to have been able to move on.

Now _he_ was next.

"Good on you, Longbottom."

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Much later, well after try-outs had ended and students had started to drift back up to the castle, Remus was approached in the stands by Professor Anton Windstrum.

Windstrum had asked Remus about himself first, wanting to properly get to know him. They hadn't yet talked outside of class, not really, and Windstrum offered up just as much information on himself as Remus divulged.

Windstrum told him some stories of his time in Africa, and then Russia, Australia, the U.S. He was clearly very well travelled. Windstrum had led civil uprisings in the states and fought off a hydra in Germany. He even had a very interesting story about a Minotaur in India. Remus in turn told him about, well, the only thing he really _had_ to tell people about.

The day he was bitten, the day he'd first transformed, even the day James, Sirius, and Peter had found out he was a were-wolf. Of course, he didn't relay the conversations that came about after this - Windstrum's stories weren't _that_ good.

Gradually, Windstrum seemed satisfied, and debriefed him on some of the finer points of Dumbledore's assignment for them. It wouldn't clash with class, his Professor stressed, but he also promised to be somewhat lenient with Remus when it came to late homework submissions. Remus assured him that wouldn't be necessary, but Windstum winked and told him to just take it.

"We'll leave the castle on Friday evening," Windstrum said. "I expect we won't get back until Saturday night, maybe even as late as next Sunday."

Remus wrinkled his nose. "Next Saturday is the first Hogsmeade visit."

"Yeah, sorry about that. We can hit Honeydukes on our way out, if you want. And when we get back, too."

Remus grinned. "Sounds like as good a plan as any."

"Perfect." Windstrum clapped his hands and started walking away. "You'll meet my friend Caradoc once we get out. You'll like him, he's great."

Remus nodded. "Looking forward to it, boss."

Windstrum's retreating figure was replaced by that of Peter's. He looked tired and altogether done with this whole affair. Much the same as Remus, then.

"Where's James? And Sirius?" Remus asked.

"Sirius left for the castle not long ago. James has wandered off somewhere, not sure where. It hasn't been his night."

Remus snorted. "I know what that means."

Peter nodded. "Unfortunately." Then he looked around, watching the last dregs of students stretch and yawn and amble out. "Can we go?"

Remus yawned just from watching them all, and jerked his head. "Yeah."

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Much, much later, when the sun had cracked the horizon and the Pitch itself was _almost _empty, Alice approached the only other person left.

James was sprawled out on the last mat on the Pitch, staring up at the sky. He didn't look over as she reached him, nor when she lay down right next to him.

"Bad night?" she asked.

He grinned. "You heard?"

"Sort of. You're a prat, apparently."

"I'm definitely a prat."

The sky was split still, as though unsure what time of day it wanted to be. The streaks of yellow and orange hadn't yet penetrated through all the navy blue the night had brought, and James and Alice stared up at it all, watching the roots of light spread into the sky.

"Frank kissed Amelia," she said, breaking the silence.

He nodded. "I saw. It was unusually forward of him, to be quite frank."

Her lips twitched. "To be quite frank?"

He rolled his eyes. "Quite."

She rolled onto her side so she was facing him directly. "Well, may I be frank with you, Mr Potter?"

He glanced at her and quirked an eyebrow expectantly.

"I don't think you're a prat."

He laughed. "Well, that changes everything."

"I already know you're arrogant and conceited."

"Undoubtedly."

"And I'll be _completely_ frank with you, James. I don't much _care_."

He rolled over onto his side too, their faces mere inches apart. "My dear Ms Prewett, you can't seriously be flirting with me."

She frowned. "No, I'm not. At least I don't think I am."

He nodded approvingly. "Good. Because you cannot handle romantic Potter."

Her face grew nearer. Their noses were close enough to brush together, if they tried.

"Romantic Prewett is something of a menace herself, James."

He tilted his head - it was _the _tilt. The tilt that meant when he leaned even closer, his nose moved past hers and their lips were a hair's breadth apart. Behind his eyes, there seemed to be a battle waging - for what, Alice couldn't be sure.

Then, his expression settled, and he grinned. "I'll be the judge of that."

They kissed.

Lips on lips, nothing more, both applying the gentlest pressure. Alice searched and sorted through the resulting emotions, and pulled away, putting proper space between them again.

"That," James said after a moment, "wasn't as weird as I thought it would be."

She nodded quickly in relief. "It should be weird, right? It came out of nowhere! We've never been even remotely like... this. It seems so random. I was expecting to be really grossed out."

"_Really_ grossed out," he agreed. "But… I'm not."

She waited a moment. "Then what are you?"

He considered this for a moment. Then he seemed to forget what he was considering as they both stared at each other, eyes wandering over the other's face, searching for a hint.

Whatever it was she was looking for, Alice found it in his eyes.

She lunged forward, her hand at the side of his neck, and he was able to give a short laugh before her lips captured his again.


	10. Blithe

If villages could make friends, Upper Aberington was a lonely little village that lacked the social skills and general friendliness to even maintain an acquaintance. Its cobbled streets were dark and uninviting, and its ramshackle houses looked like they would sooner fall in over one's head than provide any sort of comfort. Its main attraction was a mossy fountain in a clearing at the centre of the village that, every ten minutes or so, would ooze a drop of dirty brown water into a struggling little puddle.

It came as no surprise to Remus that the village had numerous reports of potential Death Eater activity. What he couldn't understand was why he was there in the first place. "It almost feels like we're just waiting for Death Eaters to come and find us."

Professor Windstrum nodded. "I can see how it might feel that way."

Remus looked around the empty village square before pressing, "So what _are_ we waiting for?"

"Death Eaters to come and find us," said Caradoc Dearborn, looking rather chipper about it.

The three stood in the village square and watched the wind blow leaves across the ground and the fountain continue to drip and drop.

Remus frowned "I thought we're here to look for someone."

"The best way to begin looking for anything, Remus, my boy, is to wait," said Caradoc. "Oftentimes, you'll find that _it_ will find _you_."

"Or something else will find you and try to kill you," Windstrum added, looking equally untroubled.

"Yes, that tends to happen a lot too."

Remus suppressed a sigh. They had been like this all night, the two of them. Reunited after a handful of years, they were much too eager to dive headfirst into the mission. They'd already jumped on a Muggle man on the outskirts of the village who happened to wear a black cloak, and the man hadn't been plenty impressed.

"So what do we want from the Death Eaters?"

"Information and a good few minutes of entertainment," Caradoc said, his handsome features spreading into a wide grin.

"Highly sensitive information," Windstrum added, clearly picking up on Remus' frustration. "The Death Eaters still don't trust Caradoc fully, so we have to get it the old-fashioned way."

"By knocking their heads together," Caradoc grinned.

Remus watched the fountain let another slow drop fall. "And what is this information we want?"

"A name." Caradoc's grin was slowly replaced by a frown, growing on his face like mold on cheese. "There is someone in the Ministry working against us. I don't know who, but it's someone with lots of influence. And I'm not talking about the Goyles or the Notts, or anyone like their sort. I mean enough influence to block the Auror Department from making a move against the Death Eaters. Enough influence to ensure that the few moves we _do_ make have been prepared for long in advance. Our inquiries are useless and our raids are futile. Just look at the raid on the Goyle residence - no results and Potter, the Head of the Auror Department himself, was _conveniently _taken out of commission."

"In Potter's absence, Emmett Fawley is trying his best to at least be somewhat useful as interim Head of the department, but there's not much that can be done. This mystery person has been too elusive." Windstrum grimaced. "In all honesty, I hadn't even known of this person's existence until a few days ago. I've asked around among the few Ministry contacts I have, but it's not much-"

"He's being modest," Caradoc told Remus. "They love him over at the Ministry. Tell him about the Bowtruckle Banquet, Anton."

"He doesn't need to know-"

"We were in Seventh Year," Caradoc began, quickly smiling at the memory, "and your teacher here had made quite a name for himself at the time. He was a _prodigy_ at defensive magic."

"Shut up," said Windstrum, scowling.

"That's what they called him, you see. Did you know he single handedly developed the technique of using a Patronus to send a message over a distance?"

"I did not," said Remus, impressed.

"It was quite revolutionary. He got an O on the Owl, naturally, and come Seventh year he found himself as somewhat of a celebrity in certain circles."

"Pretentious, worthless circles," Windstrum added.

"In other words, some people over at the Ministry."

"Pureblood fanatics," spat Windstrum. "I didn't realise immediately, of course. I wanted to be an Auror, and I thought they'd be good contacts - Morgan Bullstrode and his _lackeys_."

"Not dangerous folk at all, mind you, Remus," Caradoc continued, "but nor were they very savory company. Not particularly impressive people, either - not if you have half a brain, at any rate. As the way the world is, though, they were the ones with power in the Ministry, and they were grooming Anton here to be the next Minister for Magic."

"Which I promptly turned down."

Caradoc sniggered at his friend's sourness. "They invited him to the Bowtruckle Banquet, a real _who's who_ of the Wizarding elite, where they intended to surprise him with the good news of their plans. Provided, of course, that he be a puppet figure for them as Minister."

Remus stared. "They wanted a seventeen-year-old to be the Minister?"

"Not immediately," Caradoc clarified. "They'd give him a few more years to become more well-known and respected, all the while entrenching him within their little group. You have to understand, I really do mean it when I say that they are not impressive people. They could never become Minister themselves. I'm sure you can see the appeal of a young, powerful, and well-respected new Pureblood figure they could use to their advantage. So when the time was right, they made their case to Anton at the banquet."

"They never anticipated Caradoc being there," said Windstrum, shaking his head.

Caradoc grinned. "They of course figured Anton would bring a date. _I_ was much less a date and much more a nuisance."

"Caradoc overhead one of them talking about me being a puppet for their schemes, and he saw fit to let a few cratefulls of Cornish Pixies loose."

"It was rather silly of them to keep Pixies around in the first place. Apparently it was to be entertainment, sickly enough. Anyway, in the ensuing madness I grabbed Anton and told him what I'd heard."

"And then we trashed the place together and left."

Remus' jaw dropped and he looked from one of them to the other. "Did you get in any trouble?"

"Of course not," Windstrum scoffed.

"They didn't dare make a big fuss over it, not after revealing their hand. We simply left, reported to Dumbledore, and didn't hear another word from them."

"The whole experience ruined my dreams of becoming an Auror," Windstrum grumbled. "I can't stand Ministry folk anymore. It's no surprise I took a few years off to travel the world."

"So, like I said, they _love_ dear Anton over at the Ministry."

Windstrum rolled his eyes. "I wish that was the case. It's a wonder I have any contacts left at all."

"This Morgan Bulstrode," Remus repeated slowly. "You don't think he could be our mystery person, by any chance?"

Caradoc looked at him, then turned to Windstrum with raised eyebrows. "He catches on fast."

"He's a good student," Windstrum nodded. "Yes, Remus. We still can't be one-hundred-percent sure, but I think if anyone's the one we're looking for, it's Bulstrode."

"But we can hardly knock on his door and ask him," said Caradoc. "So we have to do this the hard way."

"Yes, I can't imagine he'd be too gelled to see me these days. Especially seeing that Eugenia Jenkins ended up becoming Minister."

Caradoc nodded. "Only the second Muggle-born Minister ever. But, more importantly, a capable, good person. Bulstrode must _hate_ you, Anton."

Windstrum sighed.

Remus didn't understand. "If she's so good, how come the Death Eaters still seem to have so much control over the Ministry?"

The two were quiet for a few moments.

"That's the question we all want answered," Windstrum said eventually. "But from what it looks like, someone important is working against her. This is why _our_ mission right now is so essential."

"So on that note," said Caradoc, a little louder, "It's about time we greet our new friends, don't you think, Anton?"

Windstrum grinned. "Oh, I think you're quite right, Caradoc."

Remus' eyes widened slightly, he nodded, catching their drift, and the three of them turned around.

The five Death Eaters sneaking up behind them froze.

"Hello," called Caradoc. "Nice night for it, isn't it?"

Just a few paces away, the masks on their faces gave no hints of emotion, but there was hesitance in their eyes. The closest one spoke after a moment, his voice slightly muffled. "Who are you?"

Caradoc beamed. "None of you recognize me? None of you were there that night I spoke with Rodolphus?"

The five of them turned to one another confusedly before eventually turning back. "No," said the Death Eater.

"Brilliant," said Caradoc. "That makes this much simpler."

Caradoc and Windstrum raised their wands simultaneously, almost like they'd rehearsed it, and sent stunning spells and disarming spells shooting at the Death Eaters in quick succession. Most of the Death Eaters dodged but one of them was caught by a jet of light and flung backwards, sprawling on the ground and not getting up.

Another Death Eater ran at Remus, eyes narrowed behind the metal mask. Quickly lifting his wand as the Death Eater got near, he hit him with a jelly-legs jinx and the Death Eater tripped and fell.

"Petrificus Totalus," he said distractedly, looking around at the others while the Death Eater stiffened up.

Windstrum was circling around the fountain, a Death Eater facing him on the other side. Caradoc was conjuring ropes and binding another one, not noticing the fifth Death Eater sneaking up behind him, wand raised.

"Look out," Remus yelled.

Caradoc whirled just as the Death Eater started waving his wand. "Protego."

White light shot from the Death Eater's wand, hit something invisible and reflected back, knocking him down with a grunt.

The fountain exploded and Remus turned quickly. Windstrum dived forwards, rolling onto the shattered fountain and springing up right in front of the remaining Death Eater. With a punch to the chin the mask went flying off, revealing a pale, spotty face that twisted into a snarl. A right hook found the Death Eater's nose, breaking it instantly on contact, and a left cross sent him straight to the ground.

Caradoc and Remus joined Windstrum by the man's slumped body.

"Is he still conscious?" Remus asked, frowning.

Caradoc kicked him.

"Ow."

"Yes," he said.

The Death Eater got to his knees and glared up at the three of them, blood dripping from his wonky nose down to his lips. "You'll all die for this."

"That's the spirit, lad. Now," said Caradoc, hunkering down to meet him at eye level, "what's your name?"

"Tobias."

Caradoc tapped his chin and tilted his head. "Tobias Selwyn?"

"Yes," he said slowly. "How do you know?"

"I'm an Auror," said Caradoc. "And you're under arrest."

Tobias grinned, blood on his teeth. "Arrest me if you want. I'll be free as early as tomorrow morning."

Windstrum narrowed his eyes. "You're implying there's someone in the Ministry on your side?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Tobias said, looking away with a smugness pulling at his lips.

Caradoc raised an eyebrow, and then gave an evil smile. "I think you do know what we're talking about, Tobias. And I think you're going to tell us."

Tobias frowned. "Why would I-"

Caradoc grabbed his head and mashed it onto the ground. Tobias spluttered against the damp, cracked stone, flailing his legs about and trying to push Caradoc away. "Our friend here, he's been quiet this whole time, Tobias. You know why that is?" Caradoc leaned close to Tobias' ear. "Tonight is the full moon."

Remus frowned. It definitely was not the full moon.

Tobias stopped struggling. He tried lifting his head but Caradoc pushed it back down. Against the ground, his muffled voice rose. "That boy's a… a werewolf?"

"Oh, yes. Even as we speak, he is struggling against some violent, bloodthirsty urges to rip your throat out. And the more of our time you waste, the closer he'll be to doing so."

Tobias tried to sound confident. "You won't let him kill me."

"I wouldn't presume to 'let' him do anything, Tobias. He's a werewolf. If he wants to taste your kidneys, there won't be much argument from me. These sorts of things happen all the time. The werewolf community is very active, and notoriously difficult to discipline."

Windstrum nudged Remus.

Remus grimaced at his teacher before sighing inwardly. He shifted around and grunted and groaned, trying to replicate the involuntary reactions he usually had when he was close to transforming.

"Okay," Tobias shrieked, "I'll talk, just don't let that thing eat me!"

Remus scowled.

"Anton, do escort our fluffy friend here a safe distance away, please."

"But it's so scary," Windstrum said in a bored voice. "Please don't make me."

"I'm afraid I must insist, my friend."

Windstrum clapped Remus on the shoulder and they took a few exaggerated steps back, with Remus grunting and dragging his feet. They stomped on the spot for a few more seconds, like they were still moving further away, before their stomps grew less pronounced and then stopped altogether.

"Now talk," said Caradoc. "And spare no detail."

"Can you at least let me up?"

"If the next thing out of your mouth isn't useful to me, you'll be the next thing in my friend's mouth."

"Alright, alright. Look, there _is_ someone high up in the power chain that's working against the Minister. And Eugenia trusts him, she has no clue he's on our side."

"So it's a man?"

"Yes."

"What's his name?"

"I don't know-"

"_What's his name_?" Caradoc roared, shaking him by the neck.

"I don't know! I swear I don't!" Tobias' voice was shaking. "Very few of us do. Even fewer have actually _seen_ him."

"Who, then? Who's seen him?"

"Other than the Dark Lord? I really don't know. Maybe none of us."

Caradoc watched him for a seconds before removing his grip and standing, looking ponderous.

Tobias brought himself to his hands and knees and looked up. "Is that all?"

"What do you know of Morgan Bulstrode? Do you think it could be him?"

Tobias blinked and offered a half-shrug. "Maybe. I don't know a lot about him, but I don't see why not. He could very well- Wait… That's not a full moon!"

His gaze shifted from the sky to Windstrum and Remus and his eyes narrowed.

"Obliviate," Caradoc said lazily.

Tobias' eyes became vacant.

"Stupefy."

He hit the ground once more and stayed there this time.

"I'll have to clear all their memories," said Caradoc, looking around the square at the unmoving forms of the other Death Eaters and sounding tired. "Rodolphus still doesn't suspect I'm a spy. I can't have him seeing me in this lot's heads."

"He said the Minister trusts our mystery man," said Windstrum, still looking at Tobias and frowning. "But Eugenia should have more sense than to trust Morgan Bulstrode."

Caradoc nodded. "Which leaves two possibilites. Either, Bulstrode is innocent-"

"Unlikely."

"-or he's managed to fool the sharpest woman we know."

They both looked troubled, and Remus took the opportunity to speak up. "Was _this_ the whole reason you brought me along? To scare Death Eaters?"

Caradoc laughed. "Of course not. I had no clue he'd be that stupid, but it worked out. No, Remus, you actually will have an important role to play soon."

Remus wasn't impressed. "And you're not going to tell me what that role is until just before I'm needed, right?"

Caradoc grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. "Right you are, Remus! Otherwise, where would the fun be?"

Windstrum punched Remus on the shoulder and winked. "Welcome to the team, lad."

Remus watched them walk away and realized it would be a very long weekend indeed.

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"I just think it's weird," Lily said, for what felt like the thousandth time.

"You've said that," said Marlene. "A thousand times."

They sat in the Common Room, by the windows. Marlene was studying. Lily was watching James and Alice be weird, over by the fireplace.

"Well, am I wrong? Isn't it weird?"

"No," said Marlene, not looking up. "It isn't weird. They're oddly sweet together."

Lily pursed her lips and frowned. "It's like incest, though."

"Maybe," Marlene nodded. "Except not at all. Not even remotely. Not literally, not metaphorically, not _faintly_. Lily, you're being dramatic."

"You're just defending James because you're on the Quidditch Team now."

"A little, perhaps. Although I find it interesting that you don't think I need to defend Alice."

Lily turned her gaze back on Marlene sharply. "You need to defend her, too. They're both in the wrong."

"Why's that?" Marlene asked, with the sort of tone that indicated she was growing tired of saying the same things in the same conversation.

"James is the enemy because he asked me out, clearly had feelings for me, acted like an arse, and after I rejected him like he deserved he just turned around and hooked up with one of my best mates!"

"Because it's definitely as simple as that."

"It is. And Alice is in the wrong because after everything, everything I've ever said about that boy, even after I complain about him annoying me on that very same day, she went and hooked up with him!"

"How terrible of her."

"It is," Lily said again. "If he thinks this will make me jealous, he has another thing coming."

"Why would it make you jealous?"

Lily stared. "Well, it doesn't. That's my point."

"It is?"

"Yes."

"Because I was starting to think you didn't have a point."

"And _I'm_ starting to think you're not taking this seriously."

"What gave me away?"

Lily glared and stood up. "Traitors. The lot of you. Traitors everywhere."

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The next morning was bright and sunny, and when a Saturday morning was bright and sunny at Hogwarts it was essentially an unwritten rule that everybody be outside to enjoy it.

James and Alice sat against the tree by the lake, watching the Giant Squid as it lurked close to the shallows, sneaking up on some Third Years by the edge.

"Hogsmeade today," Alice said, a small smile playing on her lips.

James raised an eyebrow and said nothing.

"I'm waiting for you to ask me out, you know. And I'll punch you if you don't."

"Remember when Alice Prewett was a sweet, gentle soul that wouldn't hurt a fly?"

"You've corrupted me, James. The least you can do is take me to lunch."

"I _am_ taking you to lunch. I thought that was a given."

"You have to ask me, James."

He frowned. "I do?"

"You do."

"Well, now I'm not going to. Just on the sheer principle of it."

She laughed. "What happened to 'romantic Potter', hm? He lasted all of five minutes."

He put his arm around her and squeezed. "Liar."

She grinned and rested her head on his shoulder. "Fine. You're not _bad_. You're passable."

"That's not how you say 'brilliant', Al."

"You're mediocre. Run-of-the-mill."

He sighed. "Some people just don't know a good thing when they have it."

They watched as the squid reached a tentative tentacle out of the water, sliding it along the ground towards a short boy's ankle.

Alice turned her head to him, her nose almost touching his cheek. "You know who really doesn't know a good thing when they have it?"

James tilted his head towards her slightly and waited.

"Lily," she said. "I know I really shouldn't be inflating your ego more, but I can't understand how she would possibly reject you."

"I'm an arrogant toerag," he mumbled.

"No." She reached up to his chin and tilted his head towards her more. "You're just an idiot."

"Okay now that's-"

"Shut up and listen. Now, I can't testify as to whether or not you've been an arrogant toerag in the past, although I'm inclined to believe you have. No- Shush, James. The thing is, you've clearly changed, and Lily likes you now."

He narrowed his eyes but didn't interrupt.

"It's painfully obvious. You're still arrogant, of course, but loveably so. But here's where I think it gets complicated."

The tentacle wrapped around the boy's ankle, lightly at first but steadily growing tighter. The boy didn't notice.

"I think you're arrogant in ninety-nine situations out of a hundred. But there's one where you're not - in fact, there's one situation where you become the opposite, and you shrink into this defensive stance of unsureness and a brutal dismantlement of your own self-worth. And that's when you ask out Lily. As if to compensate for all the things she's ever told you, you exhibit those qualities tenfold, like some sort of self-destructive defense-mechanism."

"Peter said something like that," he mumbled.

"It's apparent to us all, James," she said, smiling kindly. "Well, all except Lily, I guess."

He snorted.

"James, what you need to do, before you even try asking her out again, is get out of that funk. You're not an arrogant toerag or a cowardly bully or whatever else that little voice in your brain is screaming at you. Overcome that, and then I think you and Lily will have clean sailing ahead of you."

He looked at her, amused. "You're a fantastic girlfriend, you know that?"

She shrugged. "You could stand to say it more often."

"Duly noted." He paused, then had to probe her. "So, Lily likes me."

"Yep. You're wondering what kind of friend of hers would go out with you anyway?"

"No."

"Liar. Really though, I'm not entirely sure. She had just said at the time that she'll never be with you, and even if she changes her mind I know she's stubborn enough to commit to that. I figured, why waste a perfectly good boyfriend?"

He grinned. "Aren't we a pair?

"We are indeed."

They were quiet for a few seconds. She had rested her head back on his shoulder and closed her eyes.

"Frank likes you too, you know," James said, grinning.

She looked at him sharply. "He what?"

"He's liked you for years, but you're his best friend. He's been too scared to do anything."

"Scared of what?"

"Scared that you'll say no, obviously."

She seemed to ponder this. "Up until a week or two ago, I probably would have said no. And then…"

"And then Amelia Fawcett came along."

"Yeah. That bitch."

He smirked. "So in turn, my advice to you as your boyfriend, my dear Alice, is to show him you're interested. Let him know that now you wouldn't say no."

She raised an eyebrow and moved closer towards him, bringing her hand to the side of his neck. "Only after I'm done with _you_, of course. "

He placed his hands on her hips and brought her closer so she was almost resting on top of him. "And when do you think that will be?"

She leaned down and kissed him lightly. "I don't know. At least not until after I get my lunch date."

The tentacle yanked the boy into the lake. The air was filled with the startled cries of his friends as they dove in after him, trying to pull him free of the squid's clutches.

"Well in that case," he said, grinning slyly and rolling them over, "will you go for lunch with me, Alice?"

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Scheduling Quidditch practice for right before a Hogsmeade trip had not been a popular decision.

To Frank, it was just another sign that James Potter was a twat now.

"Alright, team," said James, surveying the rest of them as they hovered in the air. "We're almost done here, just bear with me for ten more minutes."

The others rolled their eyes but didn't look too bothered. Frank glowered at him.

"Murphy, Walsh, keep working on your synergy. I know you've only just started working together, but we need you two to be a well-oiled machine as fast as possible. Murphy, run him through some drills from last year."

Murphy nodded, and the two flew away.

"Smith," James said to the Seeker, "you know what to do."

Smith nodded and flew off, pursuing the Snitch or something rather. Frank never quite clued on to what drills the Seeker did at practice - it was all very odd and complex.

"McKinnon, O'Brien, we'll keep to the posts. Your accuracy impressed me at try-outs, the both of you, but it's still not quite at a competitive level. I'll run you through our formations properly another time. Longbottom-" He hesitated.

Frank raised a cold eyebrow and James' eyes quickly steeled.

"-let's get you up at the posts and have our newbies take a crack at you."

Frank nodded, turned, and flew to the posts. While he knocked Quaffles away from the hoops, he imagined they had messy black hair and lopsided grins. Needless to say, Marlene and Eamon O'Brien scored very little against him.

After fifteen minutes, Frank counted, James called them all over again, and practice was over.

"Murphy, Walsh, whenever you have free time, see if you can meet here and whack a Bludger around for a bit. Just whenever you can."

The Beaters nodded and walked off.

"Now, does Monday afternoon work for you two to meet me in the Common Room to talk formations?" James asked Marlene and Eamon.

"Do you think we could push it to evening, Captain?" asked Eamon. "I have a date in the afternoon."

"On a Monday afternoon?" James gave him an odd look, then shrugged and laughed. "You're a strange one, O'Brien. Yeah, that's fine. Let's say five-thirty? McKinnon, all good?"

The two of them nodded, and off they went.

James glanced at the stoic Seeker and inclined his head. "Whatever you have to do, Smith."

Smith gave a curt nod and wordlessly departed, leaving just Frank and James standing on the pitch.

They watched each other for a few seconds.

Eventually, James' hard expression fell and he grimaced. "Frank, come on, what are we even-"

"Are you taking her to Hogsmeade today?"

James frowned and his eyes searched Frank's. "Of course I am."

Frank nodded slowly but didn't respond.

James sighed impatiently. "This is stupid. If you're going to hit me then hit me. If you're not, then let's just stop this and move on with-"

Frank punched him hard on the cheek and James stumbled back, bringing a hand to his face.

"Are you _crazy_?"

"Are you?" Frank shouted back. "You're supposed to be my friend. You know I've liked Alice for years. You know this!"

"Frank, you made a choice to date Amelia."

"And so you decided to immediately snap up Alice?"

"I didn't snap up anyone. You're so besotted with Alice, yet you think so little of her that you don't trust her to make her own decisions? Not that it's any of your business, but _she_ came on to _me_!"

Frank tackled him and they both hit the ground. "You- are-" said Frank, trying to put him in a hold, "-a terrible - friend - James."

"You-" hissed James, rolling over to try to get on top, "-don't - own - her."

Frank wrapped an arm around his neck and planted James' face in the grass, locking in the choke hold with his other hand. James' hand grasped at Frank's sleeve but his grip grew weak when Frank tightened the hold.

"Yield," Frank said through gritted teeth.

James said nothing, continued struggling. Frank couldn't see his face but his ears and the back of his neck were growing redder and redder. James started trying to pry Frank's hand loose so Frank applied more pressure. Then James changed tact and pried at Frank's fingers instead. He lifted Frank's ring finger up, stretching the muscles connecting the fingers, and Frank cried and lifted his hand. Before Frank could reapply it, James broke from the hold and twisted his body slightly, wrapping his legs around Frank's own neck. Frank gagged, couldn't shake James' legs loose, couldn't lift them away. He pounded James' shins with his fists, James tightened his legs, and specks of white light started filling Frank's vision.

As a last-ditch-effort, he stretched out his own leg and kicked James in the side. Once hard, twice harder, and on the third James screamed and loosened his hold.

Frank rolled away, gasping for air, and James rolled the other way, coughing and clutching his side. They both lay on the ground, breathing hard and wincing up at the sky. Eventually, Frank stood. James got to his hands and knees.

Frank walked towards him and James looked up at him warily. Then, after a moment of consideration, Frank stretched his arm out. "Hospital Wing?"

James looked at the outstretched hand for a second before taking it. "Yeah."

Frank pulled him up and James threw an arm around his shoulders for support. Together, they hobbled up to the castle, wincing and groaning like idiots.

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Remus lingered behind the other two on the doorstep, and Caradoc knocked on the wooden door three times, loudly. Night was coming in fast and Remus was tired, as usual.

"This guy loves me," Caradoc said over his shoulder. "I've arrested him a few times and we get along really well."

Remus eyed the door with uncertainty. "Who is he?"

"Cassus Lucio," said Caradoc. "He's in the know for most shady goings on in Wizarding Britain, and is also a Death Eater affiliate - but only ever an affiliate, he'll be quick to remind you. We have this great back-and-forth, him and I, you'll love it."

There was a clink of metal on the other side of the door. It opened a crack and a lined, grumpy face peeked through.

"Hi, Cassus," said Caradoc, leaning in to see him. "Cleared of all charges again, I see."

"You," spat Cassus, eyes narrowing. He moved out of sight and the door slammed shut.

Caradoc waited patiently, hands clasped behind his back. After thirty seconds, he knocked again. "Is now a bad time?"

No answer, still. After a further minute of waiting, Caradoc knocked once more. "Cassus, I've got a werewolf with me." He stepped back expectantly.

Surprisingly, before long, metal latches were undone on the other side of the door and it swung open. Cassus stepped out, short and stout and looking like a wrinkly little teapot. His eyes instantly fell on Remus and he waddled forward and shone something bright into Remus' eyes, gazing up into them like they'd tell him something he'd always wondered about life.

"Yes," Cassus said after a pause to no-one in particular. "He is a werewolf."

He shifted back inside, but left the door open.

Windstrum raised his eyebrows and Remus blinked rapidly.

Caradoc grinned. "Isn't he a riot?" Without waiting for a response, he strolled into the house.

Remus looked at his teacher and Winstrum sighed and shook his head before following his friend in. Remus hesitantly stepped into the house and jumped when the door slammed shut behind him. He looked back, saw no one closing it, no mechanism to move it by itself.

Unnerved, Remus looked closer. The door was metal and shiny. In fact, most of the house seemed to be metal and shiny. Metal umbrella stand, metal picture frames, even some of the walls shone with a silvery hue of metal.

The corridor he found himself in was lined with a few metal statues of Roman gladiators, and he got the eerie feeling that they were watching him. At least, Remus could have sworn that their heads hadn't been directly turned to him when he'd first walked in - and were all statues so frighteningly life-like?

"Remus," Windstrum popped his head into the corridor, "stay close to me."

Remus nodded and hurried to his teacher, who stood at a diverging corridor.

"This way."

Remus followed him. "Professor, what's going on with this house?"

Windstrum glanced at him briefly. "Cassus has a… fascination with werewolves. It's a long story. But consequently, he's filled his house with silver and has all sorts of enchantments around the place, in some silly attempt to actually detain a werewolf. I've heard he even wears silver plates under his clothes."

Remus frowned. "Silver doesn't stop werewolves at all. That's some Muggle fairytale nonsense."

"Well, of course it is, but we can't exactly tell him that. It might put him into shock. He's clearly hedged all his bets on silver being even remotely dangerous to one such as yourself."

Remus sighed, for perhaps the hundredth time over the last day or so.

They walked into a living room of sorts, although it didn't resemble any place Remus could imagine a person comfortably living in. Aside from some armchairs, which admittedly did look somewhat luxurious, the room was barren of color apart from Cassus' beloved silver, and devoid of any other personal touches. Except for more statues, of course. Those had managed to persist into the room, ahead of anything like a rug or a fireplace. Even in here, Remus felt sure those metal faces were watching him, following his progress into the room.

Cassus sat stiffly on one armchair and Caradoc lounged on another opposite him. Cassus waited until Remus and Windstrum were seated too before glaring at each one of them in turn, finally settling his gaze on Caradoc. "If you've come to arrest me again, Auror, I will be most displeased."

Caradoc waved a hand dismissively. "What's a few arrests between old friends, really, Cassus? I'm sure we've moved past this long ago."

"I spent six months in Azkaban."

"Yes, well that is regrettable."

"I wanted to die."

"Most regrettable indeed. Now, with that in mind, I actually have good news for you, Cassus. I'm not here to arrest you again."

Casssus' cold expression didn't change.

"Please contain your excitement, old boy. No, I'm really here to ask for a favor."

Now Cassus' eyebrows rose on his lined forehead, disbelief etched into his face. "You want me to do you a favor? After you chased me halfway across the country just to put me in a cell?"

"Yes, but it's a very small favor, if that makes any difference. All I want is a name."

"Ask your question already so I can get on with saying no," snapped Cassus.

"Very well." Caradoc leaned forward. "There is someone in the Ministry, close to Eugenia Jenkins herself, who is working with Voldemort. A man. What is his name?"

Cassus' eyes bore into Caradoc's, and he didn't move for a few seconds. Then, quite suddenly, he lifted his arm and pointed back the way they'd come. "Out. Get out of my home right now, Auror."

"Cassus-"

"Even your being here could threaten my life, do you know that? They could be watching my house, for all I know. If they even _suspect_ that I gave you information, I will be tortured and killed. Leave at once."

Remus glanced unsurely at the other two. Windstrum kept his face impassive.

Caradoc hesitated before pressing. "Allow me to rephrase. I want to make a deal more so than ask a favor."

"What could you possibly have to offer me?" Cassus spat.

"Well, most notably, I won't arrest you here and now for conspiring with Death Eaters."

"I haven't conspired with a _soul_!"

"Suspectedly conspiring, then."

"Who 'suspects' me?"

"I do. And that will be good enough for the Dementors."

Cassus' face paled and his eyes widened.

Windstrum quickly cut in. "We don't want it to come to that, of course. If you give us the name we're looking for, we can arrange twenty-four hour protection from the Ministry - Caradoc is an Auror, while I am well-connected-"

Caradoc hid his snigger in a sneeze.

"-so we can guarantee your safety, if you cooperate with us. We're not the bad guys here, Cassus. We just want to keep everyone safe - yourself included."

It was clear to Remus, then, that the entire conversation had been rehearsed - or at the very least, Caradoc and Windstrum had done this before. This _routine_ simply seemed far too polished. Cassus, at any rate, didn't seem to twig that he was being played.

"Yes, that's quite right," said Caradoc. "What's more, we have with us a werewolf."

Cassus' eyes found Remus once more, and the hairs on the back of Remus' neck rose. "You're offering me your werewolf?"

"Yes," said Caradoc swiftly. "He's all yours."

"You know I'll kill him, correct? It is still legal in Britain to kill werewolves once they have transformed. I'll store him for two weeks and I'll kill him."

"Kill away, my friend," Caradoc said, smiling good-naturedly.

Remus gaped at Caradoc and then snapped his head to stare at Windstrum, panic seeping into his belly, but Windstrum didn't even glance at him. In fact, he looked completely relaxed about this turn of events.

So, Remus supposed, this must be why they had wanted him along on the trip. But was it just a ruse? Well, of course it was a ruse… it _had_ to be a ruse. What would Dumbledore say if Windstrum returned to Hogwarts without him? No, it was definitely a ruse, and Remus would just have to trust them.

Under Cassus' gaze, Remus suppressed his emotions and sighed resignedly, looking down at the floor.

After a few more seconds, Cassus laughed suddenly and Remus looked up, watched him nod and rub his hands together. "Very well, Auror. You have my cooperation."

Caradoc nodded at him and waited.

"The man you're looking for," said Cassus, "he goes by the name Blithe. I do not know if that is his real name, although I very much doubt it. I've never seen the man myself. I'd imagine only You-Know-Who has, and perhaps a few select others."

"Why make it such a big secret?" Windstrum asked, leaning forward.

"Because whoever he is, he's a trusted and respected figure in the Ministry," Cassus explained, like it was obvious. "If his identity was made known, his usefulness would dissipate very quickly."

"Trusted and respected," Windstrum repeated with narrowed eyes. "I suppose that rules out Morgan Bulstrode."

"Not necessarily," said Caradoc thoughtfully. "Bulstrode has many allies in the Ministry."

"Yes but Euginia isn't one of them."

"We don't know that."

Windstrum stared. "You can't seriously suspect the _Minister for Magic _is involved? She's Muggle-born, Caradoc!"

Caradoc shrugged. "I'm only saying we mustn't rule out any possibilities. Doing so may end up costing lives."

"If it helps," said Cassus, relaxing into his armchair and clasping his hands over his stomach, "I know that the interim Head of the Auror Department, Emmett Fawley, has been investigating Morgan Bulstrode."

Caradoc stared. "That is an internal Auror affair. How could you possibly know that?"

Cassus smiled widely but didn't answer.

Caradoc frowned at him, then shook his head and stood. "At any rate, it's clear we came to the right place. Your information actually helps our investigation a lot, Casuss. You have our thanks."

Windstrum stood too. "Indeed. We'll arrange for this house to be put under protection. I recommend you stay inside until the morning. Now, we'd best be off. Come along, Remus."

Remus nodded and got to his feet, starting to follow them out.

Cassus narrowed his eyes and sat bolt upright. "Do you think I've forgotten our terms? The boy stays."

Caradoc halted and grimaced.

"He remembered," Windstrum said accusingly.

"I see that," Caradoc snapped back.

"You said he wouldn't!"

"He's old, I thought it was a safe bet!"

"You lied to me," said Cassus, getting to his feet slowly. "You never intended to give me the boy, did you?"

"Not in the slightest," Caradoc nodded.

"That's a relief," muttered Remus.

Anger boiled over Cassus' face and he lifted his hand, then twisted it sharply. As one, the metal soldiers that lined all the walls stood to attention and then ambled forwards suddenly. From the corridors outside the room, Remus could hear all the other soldiers' metal footsteps clunking along the ground.

"You will pay," Cassus hissed.

The soldiers quickly had them surrounded them and advanced with their arms raised like zombies. Remus, Caradoc and Windstrum gathered together and faced outwards with their backs to each other, eyeing the growing army with a wary grimness.

Together, they took out their wands.

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The Common Room was empty. Lily sat in front of the fireplace and leaned against an armchair, her Charms book propped against her knees.

It was getting late, but she'd always found that she worked best with absolutely no one else around - just her, the fireplace, and a book. No room, time, or patience for any other things to distract her.

"Alright, Evans?

Lily closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the armchair. "Go back to bed, Potter. Really. I don't want company."

He joined her on the floor, grinning, and leaned against the armchair opposite. "What if I tell you a funny joke?"

"Does the punchline involve you going away and leaving me alone?"

"No, but it might cheer you up a bit."

She sighed. "I don't need to be cheered up, I need to be left alone. Particularly by you."

"Are you still sore about last week?"

"You mean how you asked me out like a prat, got on my nerves like a prat, and then turned around and got with one of my best mates like a _prat_?"

"I thought you might be upset about that."

She laughed scornfully. "Of course I am. I'm sure that's why you did it in the first place though, as some ill-advised attempt to make me jealous. Did you really think it would-"

"I'm sorry, Evans."

She stopped and narrowed her eyes, confused and annoyed.

"Really, I am. I was a prat, you're right, and I'm not ready to date you the way I am." He ruffled his hair and grimaced. "And I realize how me turning to Alice immediately after you turned me down might rub you the wrong way."

Lily folded her arms and raised an eyebrow, but didn't interrupt.

"I didn't want it to bother you - I wish it didn't affect you at all, honestly, Evans. It wasn't supposed to have anything to do with you. But I guess it was always going to." He sighed. "I suppose I just want to apologize for this whole mess I've made of things."

She wrinkled her nose, feeling some of her anger fade a little bit. "You tend to apologize to me a lot."

He laughed. "Yes, well I imagine it will be something of a constant over the course of our friendship."

"Friendship?"

"Yes."

"Since when?"

"Evans, we've been friends quite a few times now. Admittedly, all of those times have ended with me doing something stupid-"

"Ah, yes, this does sound familiar now."

He snorted and gave a wry smile. "But our _current_ friendship started a few seconds ago, when you forgave me."

"I forgave you?"

"Yep."

She tilted her head and looked at him for a few seconds. Then she sighed and shrugged. "Alright."

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Cassus didn't look particularly enthused that his statue collection was now nothing but rubble and bits of little metal body parts strewn about his living room floor. He glared at them from his armchair, and likely would have cursed and grumbled if they hadn't gagged him and restrained his arms and legs.

Remus almost felt bad, but he was too busy cradling his left arm and wincing in pain.

Caradoc had a few scrapes on his cheek, but was otherwise unscathed. "Lift it," he instructed, conjuring a sling for Remus' arm. "There you go. Now just be careful not to jostle it around until you get back to Hogwarts."

"I can barely move it, let alone _jostle_ the darn thing," Remus scowled.

"Count yourself lucky," Windstrum grumbled. "I'd much rather have the broken arm." He held his snapped wand in his hands and stared at it mournfully.

"Bad luck, mate," said Caradoc, wincing.

"Maple and dragon heartstring," continued Windstrum, not hearing his friend. "Supple, Ollivander said. But strong."

Caradoc patted him on the shoulder awkwardly. "We'll get you a new one from Diagon Alley in the morning, how about that?"

"I killed a chimera with this, you know. In the alps. It was twenty feet tall and had destroyed whole villages."

"Very impressive."

"And I killed a hydra. Exorcised a particularly nasty spirit in Nantucket, too. I've faced all manner of man and beast with this wand, and the foe that I lost it to in the end," he said, looking up and straight at Cassus, "was you and your _statues_."

"They were very scary statues, Anton."

"I'm going to punch him."

"Well you can't _punch_ him, we're supposed to protect him now."

Windstrum huffed. "At least let me snap his wand in return."

Cassus protested weakly through the cloth they'd stuffed in his mouth.

"Excuse me," said Remus, making them turn to look at him, "you two still haven't quite explained some of this. Why on Earth was he going to kill me? He doesn't even know me!"

Now Windstrum looked uncomfortable. "Ah, yes. Well, Cassus here hates werewolves."

"I figured."

"We should have told you," said Caradoc, not looking the least bit abashed. "But seeing as we didn't, and you found out anyway, there's really no use dwelling on it."

Remus frowned at him. "Right. But you still haven't really answered the question."

"When Cassus was a child," said Windstrum, "he witnessed a werewolf slaughter his whole family, right in front of him. It burst through the front door and ripped his mother's throat open. Then it cornered his father, who was apparently screaming-"

"Quite understandable," said Caradoc.

"-and it ate him."

"Merlin," Remus said, covering his mouth.

"So, through the fear and the grief and the shock, Cassus ran to his baby brother Benny and stood between Benny and the werewolf, holding a silver spoon out in front of him - presumably in a desperate attempt to ward it off. And, amazingly, it worked. They say that the werewolf watched him for a few seconds, and then quite suddenly it turned and ran."

Remus frowned. "The silver spoon actually saved him?"

"Maybe."

"Or," chimed in Caradoc, "more likely, the werewolf was just quite full after feasting on his parents."

"That is the generally accepted theory, yes."

"But he saved him?" Remus insisted. "He saved his brother?"

"Yes," Caradoc nodded, before frowning. "The next year though, Benny was killed viciously by another werewolf - completely unrelated."

Cassus gave a grief filled whimper from the armchair.

"That's awful," Remus whispered.

"Before you start feeling too bad," said Windstrum, "remember that he did just try to kill us all."

Caradoc nodded. "And he's dedicated his whole life to hunting down and killing werewolves. Not even necessarily on a full moon - I've heard plenty of stories about how he holds them here until the full moon, and then… well, who knows what he does, but I doubt it's pleasant and it is perfectly legal."

"Even if it wasn't, the Ministry wouldn't care. As far as they're concerned, the less werewolves the better." Windstrum looked down at Cassus and narrowed his eyes. "I really want to punch you."

Caradoc folded his arms and surveyed the frightened man. "What should we do with him now? We still need to make sure he isn't targeted for helping us, that would set a terrible precedent for anyone else we need help from in the future. He's also seen me asking questions with you two - if a Death Eater found him, my cover will be blown. We have to keep him out of their hands."

Windstrum shrugged. "I say we arrange for some people to check up on him in the morning and just leave him here for now. I'm sure he can last a night by himself, and our back-up will keep a close eye on him from there."

"Yeah," said Caradoc, "but I still don't want to risk that."

Windstrum rolled his eyes. "Caradoc, he's a grown man. I'm sure he can last a whole night without offing himself."

"We have to either stay with him until morning," said Caradoc, ignoring Windstrum's protests, "or we can just escort him to the Ministry right now."

Remus frowned and chimed in. "But this Blithe person is _in_ the Ministry, isn't he? Or at least, we think he is, right? Isn't that the most dangerous place to keep the person who gave us Blithe's name?"

Caradoc tilted his head. "Great point. Well, Cassus, what do you think? Can we leave you for a night?" He pulled the cloth from Cassus' mouth.

"Please don't," Cassus said immediately, his voice cracking. "The more I think about it, the more sure I am - they _definitely _have someone watching my house, and they surely know you're here. They could come to kill me at any moment, please, you can't go!"

Windstrum snorted. "Don't be so dramatic. No one's going to-"

There was a knock on the front door, so loud it carried to the living room through the two corridors in between.

Windstrum cursed and turned to glance into the corridor, then looked at Caradoc. "You don't think…?"

Caradoc looked grim. "Must be. I don't think Cassus has any friends."

"I'm not even going to bother correcting you," said Cassus. "But I-"

Caradoc stuffed the cloth back into his mouth, and the rest of what he said was muffled.

"I'll go round the back entrance," Caradoc whispered to Windstrum. "You get the door."

Windstrum nodded, and they stepped out into the corridor and went separate ways, leaving Remus alone in the living room with Cassus.

Cassus looked at Remus and tried to say something through the cloth in his mouth.

"You want me to untie you, I assume?" he asked dryly.

Cassus nodded.

"I'm not going to do that." Remus saw the hate quickly flood into Cassus' eyes, his whole face. "I know if I untie you, you will kill me, so… I'm not going to do that." He looked away then, at the ground. "I don't blame you, though. For wanting to kill me, I mean. I'm the same kind of monster that killed your family. Even though it obviously wasn't me personally, if put in the same situation I would have done the same thing, I know it. Werewolves are monsters, that's all there is to it. So… yeah."

Cassus said something indecipherable through the gag. Remus liked to think it was something heartfelt and reassuring.

"Thanks," he replied.

Windstrum walked back in, frowning. "No one was there. Must have been some kids."

Remus wasn't so sure. "Where's Caradoc, then?"

Caradoc came bursting through the wall and hit the ground hard, rolling to a stop and groaning.

They stared and watched as a dark skinned man in a crisp, teal tuxedo walked in after him through the new hole in the wall. He adjusted his lapel and surveyed them behind aviator sunglasses.

"I don't suppose you're here for tea?" asked Windstrum.

The man raised his wand.

"Guess not," said Windstrum, and dived to the side as a jet of light streamed by.

"Stupefy," Remus yelled.

The man put up a shield charm effortlessly and flicked his wand in return.

Remus dodged to the side. "Expelliarmus!"

The man dodged again. Remus could see Windstrum patting down Caradoc's pockets before rising with Caradoc's wand in his hand. Windstrum straightened and raised the wand at the man just as Remus was hit with white light and blown backwards. He hit the ground and couldn't move. He heard grunts from around the room, and more walls being hit with things.

Then Caradoc knelt by his side and grabbed Remus' wand before rejoining the fight. "Impedimenta!"

The man countered the jinx and sent one back at Caradoc. Remus could lift his neck. Windstrum was sending a stream of hexes at the man. Caradoc started to match his rhythm, and the man was being pushed back. Caradoc and Windstrum together were too much for him.

But then with a grunt from the man and a complex wand motion, the two were sent flying back into a wall. Remus could move his arms and legs, but barely. He tried bringing himself to his hands and knees but fell back down.

He looked up in time to see the flash of green light, and Cassus Lucio went from struggling against his bonds to being limp in the armchair, head lolling to the side. He was dead.

"No," Caradoc yelled. He got to his feet and raised his wand, but the man flicked his own wand again, impossibly fast, and once more Caradoc was taken off his feet.

Windstrum snarled and ran at the man, forgetting his wand. He ducked under a jet of light and swung a punch at the face. The man blocked with his forearm and headbutted Windstrum, sending him stumbling back.

The man pointed his wand at Windstrum at point blank range, and Remus put all his strength into lunging forward. He grabbed his teacher's arm and yanked him back. The jet of green light careened past, missing Windstrum by an inch, and it blasted another hole into another wall.

Caradoc ran forward then, standing by Windstrum's side, and the two pointed their wands at the man and he pointed his wand at them. Given space and composure, Remus was sure that Windstrum and Caradoc would be a match for the man now. He'd given them too long.

The three men stood there for a moment, eyes wide and wands raised, no one making a sound. It was a stalemate if ever Remus had seen one.

Then, as if deciding they weren't worth the extra trouble, the man turned on the spot and disapparated with a pop. He was gone as suddenly as he'd come.

Caradoc and Windstrum lowered their wands, panting.

"Was that Blithe?" Remus asked, his voice shaking.

"Maybe," said Caradoc. He rubbed his neck and coughed. "Or he might be working for Blithe."

They turned and looked at Crassus' body, at the fear still etched on the man's face, and then at what was left of the room, with the holes in the walls and the metal body parts of soldier statues littering the floor.

"What the hell have we gotten ourselves into?" Windstrum asked.

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Early on Sunday morning, Blithe apparated into the underground complex of criss-crossing corridors that comprised the Death Eaters' base of operations.

He walked quickly, as he didn't have much time.

"What an honor," said Rodolphus Lestrange, appearing by his side and matching his pace. "The fabled 'Blithe' has come to visit at last. You should have told me, I'd have arranged a welcoming party with pasties and pumpkin juice."

"I would say pettiness doesn't suit you, Lestrange, but I won't, because it actually suits you just fine. It's like you were born to be an irritating git. How's your wife?"

"Bella is fine. And how is your dull, pointless job?"

"I do important work, Lestrange."

"I wonder how many times a day you tell yourself that," said Rodolphus with a cruel laugh.

"Funnily enough, it's the same amount of times a day that I talk to idiots. I'm starting to think there may be a correlation."

Rodolphus looked at him, unimpressed. "I don't like you."

"I think I'll get over it."

They reached a small, dimly lit room with only a table and a chair in it. Lord Voldemort sat in the chair, reading something from parchment. He looked over when they walked in, his eyes glimmering.

"Blithe," he said in that cold, bone-chilling voice, "I assume something has gone wrong to warrant your visit?"

Blithe nodded. "Yes, my Lord. I'm afraid Dumbledore is on my trail. Properly on it now."

Voldemort clasped his pale hands over the table. "How close is he?"

"It's hard to say. It really depends on how quickly the right person is questioned - seeing as they're already on my trail, it could be as soon as tomorrow that it all comes out. But I think I can hold on to the current state of things for another few months, at least."

"You had better, Blithe. For your own sake, if nothing else. Need I remind you that you are only useful to me so long as you remain trusted by Eugenia Jenkins? So long as you have allies?"

"No, you need not, my Lord," he said, lowering his head a little. He was sure he heard Rodolphus snigger a little from beside him.

"Very well. You may leave then, Blithe."

Keeping the anger from his face, Blithe turned on the spot and disapparated, vowing to himself that he would make sure that Albus Dumbledore payed for his interference.


	11. Hope and Death

October brought with it the usual grey skies and damp, muddy ground that it was known for, forcing all but the brave or the dim to remain indoors whenever they could. Every now and then, the sun would peek out one morning, as though reminding them all that it was still there, but it would quickly be quashed by the clouds before anyone could attest to actually seeing it.

On a particularly rubbish Wednesday evening, Peter was sat in the Common Room getting his bottom wholloped at Wizard's Chess by Remus. Gryffindors, despite their alleged bravery, were not ones to brave the poor weather, it turned out.

Unfortunately for Peter, this meant most of his housemates were packed into the Common Room and spectating his game.

"Are you going to make a move?" asked Peter's rook, looking up at him in a huff. "Or are you going to sit there with that vacant expression on your face all night?"

"I'm thinking."

His bishop scoffed. "You've been thinking for ten minutes, boy. Just sacrifice the pawn already."

"_No_," said the pawn. "You need me. I'm keeping the pressure on that knight over there."

"This is boring," said a spotty-faced Fourth Year boy Peter immediately didn't like the look of.

"Bugger off then," he mumbled.

"If it helps," said Remus, sitting across from him and smiling kindly, "I think sacrificing the pawn is your best move right now."

Peter shook his head. "Of course you would say that, it's what you want me to think."

After a few more seconds, he made up his mind and picked the rook up.

"No, you stupid boy," cried the rook. "You can't sacrifice me!"

"Don't listen to that rook, boy," the pawn called jubilantly. "Trust your instincts!"

Peter placed the rook down and Remus sighed as he responded with his own move. Remus' queen grabbed the rook and smashed it onto the chessboard like a wrestler, stomping it down before kicking it aside. The rook picked itself up and limped off the board, shooting a glare up at Peter as it went.

"All part of the plan," Peter said unconvincingly. He reached for the pawn.

"You can't," piped up Lily from behind him. "You're in check, you have to move your king first."

He hesitated. "Wonderful."

"You can't move your king, either," said Remus with a grimace. "It's checkmate."

"Wait, so…" Peter frowned, "I lose?"

"Yes," snapped the rook, picking up a part of its arm that had fallen off.

"Oh." He wrinkled his nose and pushed the chessboard away. "Chess is dumb. Where are James and Sirius?"

Remus shrugged. "They both wandered off some time ago. James left with Alice."

Peter chanced a glance at Lily, but she looked genuinely untroubled by this.

"Play again," someone called.

Remus frowned. "Don't you all have homework to do? Classes tomorrow to prepare for?"

Blank stares and blinking faces.

He sighed. "For a moment, I almost forgot what house I'm talking to."

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James watched Alice write on the blackboard in big block letters.

She said each word out loud as she wrote them. "You are not a bad person."

Sirius nodded. "You're not. As the two people in this castle most invested in your happiness, Prongs, we really need you to get this through your head."

James sat on a desk and looked at the two of them, standing side by side at the front of the otherwise empty classroom. He blanched. "Where is this coming from all of a sudden? I _know_ I'm not a bad person. I don't need to be told that. Really guys, I appreciate the sentiment but there's no need for this."

"Prewett and I have discussed it, mate. We think you actually do believe you're a bad person, at least on a subconscious level. I certainly know you well enough to see something along these lines is in the back of your head. I catch little hints of it often enough. The uncomfortable look on your face when you see someone we used to bully, the newfound hesitation in your voice when you receive a compliment nowadays, and this baffling idea that, for some reason, you don't even deserve to go out with Lily Evans."

"Because I go out with Alice Prewett, thank you very much," James snapped.

"James," said Alice, "let's be honest, neither of us sees our relationship as a long-term arrangement or something very serious. That's not to say it isn't _real_, of course. I know you, James. And Black and I wouldn't be doing this for you if we didn't think it was necessary. Please just hear us out."

He looked her in the eyes for a few moments and she looked back earnestly. He sighed and crossed his arms. "Fine. Let's assume you're right. What then?"

"Acknowledgement is the first step," said Sirius. "But the next step has to come from somewhere inside you. Now, Prewett has a theory on where this all came from."

"Yes," she said. "Lily, while one of my best friends, has never been very withholding of her critiques of you, James. Now, while most people will very rarely hear all the bad things other people think about them, you have heard it all, specifically from Lily, on far too a regular a basis - to the point where all those things have developed into an insecurity of yours."

"Since when did you two become psychologists?" he complained.

"Since you became as easy and elementary to read as Peter's Charms essays," Sirius said with a roll of his eyes. "Shut up and listen."

"Neither Black nor I can simply lecture this insecurity to death," Alice continued. "You're going to have to conquer it on your own. However, seeing as you're aware of it now it will be much more feasible for you to do so. By making yourself aware, you enable yourself to control it and, hopefully one day soon, defeat it."

James looked at them doubtfully. "That's assuming you're right about this 'insecurity' existing, of course. Which you're not. This is all hypothetical."

"Of course," said Sirius, clapping James on the shoulder and walking to the door. "Purely just a thought-experiment. We all know you don't have any feelings, Prongs."

James nodded approvingly. "Just as long as we're clear on that."

Sirius gave him an amused look that said he knew better though, James gave a half shrug that said he probably did, and Sirius snorted and walked out. Once the door had closed behind his friend, James looked back at Alice.

She was watching him with a sly grin on her face. "Now that we have the room to ourselves, do you want to-" she wiggled her eyebrows, "-_talk about our feelings_?"

Not for the first time, it occurred to James how incredibly attractive she had really been all these years. He smirked and pulled her to him. "I thought you'd never ask."

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Severus felt nerves writhe around in his stomach like a school of piranha, flocking onto that brief flaring of hope inside of him and descending upon it with an undiscerning viscousness. His hope was a small thing, but the kind of small that one can never truly extinguish. It was the ant that escaped from under the boot, or the piece of paper that could only be folded so many times.

For the first time since that day by the lake, when he had said that word to her and he'd thought it all to be over, Severus felt there was a real chance that Lily Evans was ready to forgive him. A chance that they might soon be friends again, real friends, and he could reconnect with the only person he'd ever truly connected _with_.

He stood at a window on the east tower of the castle and looked out onto the grounds. There were a few idiots splashing about in the puddles that collected along the path to the Quidditch Pitch. Gryffindors, no doubt. Severus' gaze drifted further along, to a little alcove of trees just shy of the Forbidden Forest. They weren't very tall trees, nor were they particularly pleasant looking. Because of this, and also in part to its proximity to the forest, it was a spot that very few students frequented in favor of the lively and social scene by the lake and the tree on a sunny day. It was, therefore, a spot that Severus held in high regard.

He took Lily there in their first year. He'd found the spot a few days beforehand while prowling about the grounds, and had instantly taken a liking to it. He remembered with a silly grin how scared she'd been at first.

"It's so close to the forest, Sev," she had said, tugging on his sleeve. "Professor Dumbledore said not to go there!"

He'd told her to relax. It was perfectly safe, and far enough from the forest not to get them into any trouble.

There was a surprise waiting, of course. A picnic blanket, with a few platefuls of her favorite meals (french toast, apple pie, and vanilla ice cream) with a few books stacked to the side, just for safe measure (A History of Magic, Magical Drafts and Potions, and The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1 - her favorites). She'd gasped when they reached the spot, clapped a hand over her mouth and looked at him with wide green eyes. It was an image he knew he'd never forget. They had a great time that day, and many other days in the same spot.

In Third Year, after her first ever date with a boy (Isaac Barnes, a Ravenclaw with surprisingly little brains) had gone terribly, they had sat on the blanket in that little alcove of trees, and he'd convinced her that it really wasn't the end of the world, as she was beautiful, and smart, and plenty of boys would always be scrambling over one another just to make her smile. And she did smile at that, with a little more help from some food (french toast, apple pie, and vanilla ice cream) and some books (A History of Magic, Practical Household Magic, and The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 3 - her favorites). She'd smiled widely, and it was mesmerizing. Severus knew he would never forget that, either.

Every time they would go to that spot, they would talk and smile and be Lily and Severus, away from everyone else, away from her increasingly disapproving friends or his housemates' growing penchant for nastiness, and all that mattered was what they thought, or wanted, or felt - it was just _their_ time. Severus could remember every single one of those days in perfect detail.

Those many sunny afternoons spent with her were the brightest parts of his memory, and soon he might get it all back. After weeks of hard thought, Severus had made his mind up.

Come Saturday, he would invite her for a walk. She might hesitate, but they had grown more than cordial over the last month and he felt sure she would agree. She wouldn't immediately realize where he was leading her, but once she did, it would all come together. The blanket, the trees, the afternoon sun, they would have their moment away from all else once more.

Spending that afternoon together, just like they used to, would be the spark to finally reignite what they had, after months of Severus stacking a grudging yet budding friendship over the smouldering flames.

He turned away from the window and walked down the corridor with a spring in his step.

The hope flared in his chest once more, growing steadily, refusing to allow itself to die.

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At night, Sirius wandered about the dark corridors of the castle, grinning to himself for no particular reason other than grinning being a fun thing to do.

It was well past the time students were permitted out of bed, which Sirius suspected was the reason he was enjoying himself so much. It was quite fun anticipating when he would bump into a Prefect or a teacher on patrol. He hadn't done nearly enough antagonizing lately.

The Marauder's Map was in his pocket, but he didn't look at it as he felt that would be cheating. He didn't light the way with his wand, either. It was pitch darkness, just the way he liked it. Aside from walking into a few walls, he found that not being able to see a thing only added to the fun.

It was getting colder the further he walked, and the darkness was somehow getting darker. He was on one of the lower floors, he guessed. He couldn't really tell, and he wasn't too bothered, but-

"Is someone there?"

Sirius froze.

He couldn't place the voice. Was it a boy or a girl? A ghost or something else entirely? Something about it made his lips dry and fear grip at his heart. He could almost hear it beating in his chest, and vainly urged it to quiet down before it gave him away.

"I can see you," came the voice, closer now.

Sirius' eyes widened. There was no way. No person should be able to see in this darkness.

An idea sprang to his racing mind and he acted on it immediately.

He closed his eyes, his body stretched and squeezed and contorted, and Sirius became a dog without making a noise.

"Oh… you're gone. How curious."

Through a dog's eyes, there was a shape discernible through the darkness. Or maybe there wasn't. It was a scent. No, not a scent, either. A… _presence_.

As Sirius tried to focus on the presence, it faded. Soon, it was barely even there anymore. He counted to ten in his head, and then turned the other way and bolted, careening down corridors as fast as a dog's legs could take him.

He stretched, squeezed, and shifted into a human, stumbling along the ground.

"Lumos." There was no one around him. An empty corridor, with a broom closet to his right. He got in the broom closet, and closed the doors behind him.

He stood still, panting quietly, and listened for any sounds outside the broom closet.

Something touched his shoulder and he cursed, whirling around with his wand raised. He stared at a fallen broomstick and let out a breath. He was alone in there.

Sirius reached in his pocket and took out the map. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

Lines appeared over the map's surface, criss-crossing and flourishing into the perfect map of Hogwarts that he and his friends cherished so dearly. He scanned all nearby corridors, looking for a name, an answer. The only name in the area was _Sirius Black_, hunched in an empty broom closet.

He frowned and rested his head against the back of the closet. It didn't make any sense. The map never lies.

Could the voice have belonged to a portrait? A portrait with particularly good eyesight?

No, he had _seen _something. There was something there. Whatever it was, it didn't have a name or identity, otherwise it would be on the map. But it was there.

It couldn't be a ghost, as even their names should show up. Sirius' eyes trailed over the map, eyeing Nearly-Headless Nick, or Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington as the map had him, idling around Gryffindor Tower, and he glimpsed Peeves somewhere in the East Wing.

As he searched the map his mind wandered, and all thoughts of this mysterious encounter were forgotten abruptly when something distracting caught his eye. In a corner of the map were a handful of names gathered in one of the dungeons, names that Sirius recognized at once.

Regulus Black, Prentice Travers, Egan Mulciber, and Severus Snape.

Anger filled Sirius quickly, consuming his thoughts.

For four years, Snape had stayed away from his younger brother, knowing well enough to leave him be. Now the slimy git was reportedly recruiting Death Eaters, and looked to be getting his greasy fingers on Regulus?

If Remus were there he would tell Sirius to calm down, he knew. Peter would stay out of it. But James would happily go along with Sirius to bash all their heads together. Or at least, he would have, not too long ago. These days Sirius could never properly predict what James would do.

One thing was for sure, though. He had explicit permission from Dumbledore to… _investigate_ potential Death Eater activity in the castle. Granted, Dumbledore had specified not to do so after hours but, seeing as Sirius had long since broken that rule, there was no use in letting that stop him.

"Mischief managed."

He left the broom closet and took off down the corridor, cold anger giving fuel to his pace. When he reached the dungeons, he double-checked the map, saw that they were all still there. Voices carried over to him, and Sirius crept along the wall, stopping before the entrance,

"We don't need an answer immediately," came Snape's voice, sounding authoritative. "Think it over for a couple of weeks. Before Christmas break, let us know if you're in or not. No later than that, I'm afraid."

"Alright," said Regulus, not sounding frightened at all but not quite excited either.

"No later than Christmas, Black," repeated Travers uselessly, in a poor attempt to match Snape's tone.

"I heard him," said Regulus with ice in his voice.

"You show promise," said Mulciber. "And you come from noble heritage. I don't think you'll disappoint us."

"I couldn't care less about disappointing you. And my heritage has nothing to do with my talent."

"Watch your tone, Black," jeered Travers. "We are your-"

"Travers," snapped Snape, "go stand in the corner over there until we've finished talking."

"What?"

"Now. I won't ask again."

"_What?_"

"Travers, really," sighed Mulciber. "Just go stand in the corner."

There was a pause, before grudging footsteps on the stone floor rang out.

After a few seconds, Snape spoke again. "We only want you if you're dedicated, Black. If not, don't bother. What we're doing here isn't for the faint of heart, and we can't afford to have someone who will squeal to the Aurors at the first available opportunity."

"Understood."

"Do you? Do you understand?" Snape pressed. "I need to emphasize, Black, that your mind needs to be _entirely_ made up."

"Yes, I understand," said Regulus testily. "I'll give you my answer before Christmas."

After another silence, Snape eventually sounded satisfied. "Very well. If you have any remaining inquiries, arrange a meeting with me in a subtle, untraceable manner. Make sure not to speak of this to anyone else. If anyone expresses interest, direct them to me."

"Of course."

A brief silence, before footsteps drew close to Sirius and he ducked back into an adjacent room and leaned against the wall. He glimpsed the back of Snape's head as he passed the room, and let out a breath as the footsteps retreated.

"Travers," came Rosier's voice, sounding annoyed, "get away from the damn corner, we're leaving."

"Is Severus still there?" asked Travers, his voice sounding muffled and bringing a slight tilt to Sirius' lips.

"No, you idiot. I just said, we're leaving."

Travers harrumphed, and spoke clearly now. "That Snape sure has-"

"Just shut up. Please. Let's go."

Sirius watched the backs of their heads streak past the room. Regulus wasn't with them.

He left the room once their footsteps had faded, and walked into the dungeon.

Regulus was sitting on a desk, looking lost in thought. His head snapped over to Sirius when he walked in, and his eyes widened. "Sir- Sirius?"

Sirius leaned against the doorframe.

"What are you doing here?"

"I should punch you," said Sirius, eyeing his brother with contempt. "Right on the cheek. Then maybe kick you on the ground a little bit."

Regulus seemed perfectly used to Sirius' threats, still merely looking surprised at his sudden appearance. It occurred to Sirius that they hadn't been in the same room, he hadn't looked upon his brother's face, in almost a year. The way Regulus gazed at him with wide eyes reminded Sirius of the four-year-old boy he had played with in the garden and wrestled on the carpet. Countless broken vases and promises not to tell their mother, sugar-filled nights of Chocolate Frogs and comparing cards, hours spent theorizing where babies come from and being disgusted by books on anatomy.

"What are you doing, Reg?" he asked softly.

Regulus didn't seem to be sure. "Being a good son."

"Why?"

"One of us has to."

"No," Sirius said fiercely. "Neither of us has to. They're _mental_, Reg. You must know that. You must know what they believe in is cruel and wrong."

There was a little more strength in Regulus' voice. "That's your perspective."

"And it should be yours, too. We have the same upbringing, for Merlin's sake! I _know_ you're having doubts."

"That's where you're wrong," said Regulus, his voice hardening more and more. "Because you've always been rebellious, you've always gone against Mother's wishes, _I've_ been the one to fill the void to Mother and Father. I've been their son, and I'm going to fulfil their expectations of me, Sirius."

"Regulus, I'm begging you. _Please_. It's not too late, you can still turn away from it all before you get people killed - before you get yourself killed! Let me help you, just come with me to Dumbledore's office and-"

"Dumbledore," spat Regulus, laughing humorlessly and shaking his head. "And then I suppose we'll run off to James Potter's house and play a game of backyard Quidditch? Wile away the years until the Dark Lord comes to kill us all? No, Sirius. The sides have been chosen."

Sirius stared at him. He didn't look like the same Regulus he'd grown up with anymore. The expression on his face was more reminiscent of a Rosier, or a Mulciber. "That's how it is?" he asked quietly. "The sides have been chosen, Reg?"

"Go back to your Common Room," Regulus muttered, looking away.

"We'll meet on the battlefield. You know that, right? What will you do then?"

"I'll do what I have to."

"You'll kill me?"

"If I have to."

Sirius didn't know what to say to that. Hearing those words from his brother made him weak, almost made tears break away from his eyes. He didn't let them, though. He kept his gaze cold. The last time Sirius had cried he'd been a fifteen-year-old boy, beaten bloody by his father, blasted off the family tree by his mother, and running off with a suitcase and his wand. This boy in front of him wouldn't have the honor of reducing him to that.

"Let me tell you something in return, then," Sirius said in a flat voice. "When the time comes, if you come after me or any of my friends, I'll do what _I _have to. Without hesitation. You don't deserve that from me anymore."

Without waiting for a response, he turned and strode out of the dungeon, not paying attention to the turns he took and the corridors he found himself in as he walked.

He couldn't think of anything. His brain felt dead.

There was a broom closet near him.

Sirius walked up to it and looked at it for a moment. Then he plunged his fist through the wood with an incensed cry of rage.

A high pitched voice shrieked from inside the closet and Sirius stumbled back in surprise. "We're being attacked, Brian!"

"Get off me," yelled a gruffer voice.

The closet doors burst open and two Fifth Years stumbled into the corridor with wide eyes, their clothes loose, their hair ruffled, and a bit too much of their skin exposed. They looked around rapidly before their gazes settled on Sirius.

"You're Sirius Black," said the boy, the alarm on his face turning into mild surprise.

"Yes, sorry about that," said Sirius, rubbing his neck. "Didn't mean to, er… alarm you."

There was silence before the girl tilted her head. "So, did you want to join us or something?"

Sirius blanched. "Is that the sort of reputation I have?"

The two looked at each other, shrugged, and looked back at him. "Yes," they chorused.

"No, I don't want to bloody well join you. And have you noticed you're barely dressed?"

"I certainly noticed you've been looking," the girl said accusingly.

"Yes, I apologize for finding your exposure unusual," he said with a roll of his eyes. "Get back to your Common Rooms before I find someone to give you a detention."

He started walking off.

"But you're Sirius Black," the boy called after him. "You don't care about the rules."

Sirius snorted to himself. Just then, he was regretting breaking curfew entirely.

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In the morning, Marlene fell out of her bed. This was not unusual in the slightest. In fact, she had clothes and cushions strewn about the side of her bed specifically for when she fell out of it, and so it felt like falling out of one bed and right into another, albeit a bed that was uneven, significantly less comfortable, and tended to wake her up. The falling part also tended to wake her up.

She yawned and got to her feet, rubbing her eyes and peering at the time piece on her bedside table. It was eight minutes past ten, and she was very late for Potions. Being late wasn't new, nor particularly troubling to Marlene - especially not for Potions.

Taking her time, she hummed to herself as she put on her uniform, sang to herself as she applied her make-up, and smiled at herself in the mirror, because she looked absolutely gorgeous.

She picked up an empty bookbag and strolled down the stairs to find the Common Room filled to the brim with what must have been the entire Gryffindor House, all lolling about in jeans and sweaters and pyjamas.

Marlene dropped her bag and pursed her lips. Now this was most unusual.

Lily and Alice were sitting in a secluded corner of the room, if it could be called that. There were still a handful of others around them, lounging about, but it was as secluded as the Common Room could really get at times like these.

Marlene stalked over to them, eyes narrowed. "It's definitely not the weekend yet. I would have known."

Alice grinned at her. "Classes are cancelled. Potentially for the whole day. We're not even allowed outside our Common Rooms."

Marlene frowned. "What?"

"McGonagall was here at seven in the morning," Lily explained. "Guarding the portrait hole, making sure no one left. She instructed the Fat Lady not to let students through at about nine and sealed the portrait hole behind her, then she went off to help."

"Help _what_? Has there been an attack? Are there Death Eaters around?" Marlene gasped. "Is it You-Know-Who?"

"No," Alice giggled. "Professor Kettleburn messed up. He let a creature get loose last night and it's been prowling the corridors since. Apparently it's so dangerous that we're all on lockdown. Isn't it great?"

Marlene stared. "So no classes?"

"No classes."

"Wow… that _is _great."

Lily rolled her eyes. "Well I think it's a nuisance."

"Of course you do," Marlene smirked.

"It's a nuisance and it's dangerous. A few students were already out of bed before seven, you know. They could have been hurt if McGonagall hadn't found them in time."

"So what kind of creature is it?"

"No one's completely sure," said Alice. "McGonnagal didn't even know. Liza Clarke was one of the students that left the Common Room early in the morning, and according to her it was a banshee."

"But she later admitted to not being entirely sure what a banshee is," Lily added.

"I think it's a sphinx," said a boy sitting to Alice's right.

"Daryl, you said you think it's a dragon not ten minutes ago," said Lily, looking tired. "Stop weighing in on this."

Daryl looked away sulkily.

"James reckons he can get past the Fat Lady," said Alice, smiling. "He wants to take a look at it."

"Yes, well '_James'_ reckons he can do just about anything, so that comes as no surprise," Lily said with a roll of her eyes.

Alice made a face that suggested she'd eaten something unpleasant and looked away. "Okay."

Lily cleared her throat and looked at the ground after a moment, her lips pressed together tightly.

"Well," said Marlene, getting up, "I think I'll leave you two to it, shall I?"

She walked away from them, feeling something between irritation and exasperation towards Alice and Lily. For close to a month now, the subject of James Potter had generally been an uncomfortable one around them. Despite Lily having made up with the bugger himself weeks ago, sinking once more into an amiable dynamic between the two, the dynamic between Lily and Alice was still left somewhat… frosty.

Marlene supposed she couldn't exactly blame them - how could it _not _be like that, after everything? There was really no other possible outcome, and this was quite likely the best-case scenario. Regardless, it left Marlene short of any sane company.

"Good morning, McKinnon," said Sirius Black, taking her by the arm and leading her towards the stairs going up to the boys' dormitories. "Fancy a chat?"

"Black, if you're trying to come onto me again-"

"Nothing of the sort, oddly enough. No, I genuinely just want to chat."

Marlene narrowed her eyes and reluctantly followed him up the stairs. The dormitory was as messy as she expected, perhaps even a little messier, but not by a whole lot. She had certainly expected it to smell much worse than it did.

Sirius walked over to his bed and sat on it. Marlene pointedly sat on the next one over, James' judging from the Quidditch notes scattered over the covers.

"Now, you must be wondering why I brought you up here."

Marlene never had much time for the obvious, and it must have shown on her face.

"I promise you, it's for a good reason," he added hastily. "I- This isn't easy to talk about, mind you, McKinnon, so you'll have to bear with me - I was out late last night. I'm pretty sure I ran into Kettleburn's creature at some point, which was terrifying and definitely _not_ a dragon, that rumor is way off. Unless it's some dragon I've never heard of, because, you know, it fits into a corridor and speaks English-"

"You spoke to it?"

"Yes, it was very unsettling. Well, it spoke to me. Anyway, that's not the point. While I was out, I bumped into Regulus with Snape and Mulciber."

"Regulus Black?"

"No, Regulus Dumbledore."

"Just making sure, Black."

"Yes, Regulus Black. Snape was talking to him, recruiting him. To be a Death Eater, that is. And I'm pretty sure he's going to say yes."

Marlene watched him carefully. "This isn't much beyond what we already suspected," she said slowly. "Have you told Potter? Anyone else?"

He shook his head. "I will. But I… look, do you remember how I tried coming onto you that time-"

"And I promptly rejected you and you proceeded to avoid me for a month, yes."

"Right." He shifted. "Well, there's a reason I asked you out, McKinnon. I like you."

"The answer is no."

"I'm not asking anything. I'm just saying I like you. And I mean as a person, not necessarily as a partner or a lover-"

"This is gross."

"-but just as a person to be around. So I figured why not make out as well, right? But you rejected me, so I got over it-"

"After a month."

"-and now I see the value of keeping you around. We mesh well."

"There will be no meshing in this dormitory today, Black."

"I want your advice," he said, looking at her with a genuinely troubled expression. "What do I do? Should I report it to Dumbledore? Remus would want me to. Peter wouldn't say much. And James would take this as an excuse to break Snape's teeth, and he's been doing really well at restraining himself lately and I don't want to ruin that for him. Help, Marlene."

She looked at him appraisingly. Who would have thought that there was more to Sirius Black than rugged good looks and a troubled childhood?

"What do you want to do?" she asked quietly.

"At first I wanted to help him. After talking to him, I realized that's not going to happen. Now I just want to stop him, all of them, by doing whatever is necessary."

She nodded. "Then we'll do that. All of us. You talk to your lot, I'll talk to mine. We'll all meet. Dumbledore told us to keep an eye on the Slytherins and intervene when necessary, so that's exactly what we'll do."

A grin broke out across his face. "See? You're a fantastic addition to the people I keep around me. You're great for me to talk to, and we mesh."

"No meshing, please."

"Maybe it's a feminine touch that I needed in my life," he said thoughtfully. "Whenever I spend time with other girls, we don't do a lot of talking, if I'm being completely honest."

"And there's my limit," Marlene nodded, getting to her feet. "So glad we could do this, Black."

"You sure you don't want to stick around and cuddle?"

"Quite."

"Aw, McKinnon, you could at least give a reason."

"I'm not looking for a relationship."

"Why not?"

She didn't answer that one. She just waved vaguely over her shoulder and walked out.

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It was a banshee that was loose in the castle.

Silvanus Kettleburn knew this because he had been the one to let it loose. Well, he didn't like the way that sounded. He hadn't 'let it loose'. That implied this whole thing had been intentional. It was not.

Admittedly, he had brought a banshee to school. According to Professor McGonagall, that was his first grievously stupid decision. His first grievously stupid decision in regards to this whole affair, at least. In the grander scheme of things, he had made countless grievously stupid decisions, many of which McGonagall had called out in much the same fashion.

That was all moot, of course.

His second decision, which reportedly 'flummoxed' McGonagall, and was possibly just as stupid, had been to weaken the sedation and allow the banshee to wake up. Professor Kettleburn had never had the pleasure of talking to a banshee before, so how could he not wake her up? _Professor _Kettleburn, _teacher_ of Care of Magical Creatures, having never talked to a banshee? Ludicrous, absolutely ludicrous.

Unfortunately, the banshee sat up, opened its mouth, and screamed. Kettleburn would have died, were it not for the earmuffs. In theory, they cancelled out all noise, but he was dreadful at charms and so he hadn't been one-hundred-percent sure about them. It turned out he'd botched the charm, heard the scream, and fainted.

When he woke up, his fellow members of faculty had been standing over him in his office, looking most displeased. He remembered the scowls on some of their faces.

Professor Anton Windstrum, walking beside him, was looking at him with that same scowl on his face.

"I really cannot be blamed for this-" Kettleburn started.

"You let a _banshee_ loose, Professor," said Windstrum. "They can kill people with a scream."

"Not even six years ago, you were still a student here, Anton. I seem to recall you getting up to your fair share of mischief in the day, hm?"

"I never set a banshee loose."

"Dungbombs, banshees, the point is we've all let a few things loose in our time, and pointing fingers has never done a jot of good to anyone - not least of all the ones being pointed at."

"A banshee, Professor."

"My friend, you're looking at the trees but you're not seeing the forest! Banshees are terribly misunderstood-"

"I'm looking at a banshee and I'm seeing a banshee."

"Yes, you've made yourself quite-"

Windstrum pointed straight ahead and Kettleburn shut his mouth when he saw the banshee.

They were coming down the stairs to the Entrance Hall, and she stood by the great oak doors sealed firmly shut that blocked the way to leave the castle.

Windstrum summoned his Patronus, a wolf that stood tall, up to Kettleburn's waist, and looked at him with intelligent eyes. He sent it off to Dumbledore and waited.

After only a few seconds had passed, there was a flash of light beside them and Albus Dumbledore appeared with a crack.

He nodded to Windstrum. He'd given Kettleburn the cold shoulder all day, which Kettleburn found rather unfair.

The banshee turned to look at the three of them. With floor length black hair and a skeletal, green-tinged face, many people found them to be terrifying, unsettling creatures. They were undeniably fascinating, though, and to Kettleburn, fascination equated to beauty and wonder and awe.

She smiled as she looked at them with empty eye sockets.

She'd done the same thing just before she'd screamed at Kettleburn earlier. He wasn't worried, though. This time, Dumbledore had specially charmed swabs of cotton that they'd all stuffed in their ears. They could hear just fine mostly, but everything louder than a speaking voice was unable to break through the cotton.

Dumbledore and Windstrum strode forwards, their knees slightly bent and wands at the ready. Kettleburn hobbled along after them, wincing on his bad knee.

She watched them approach, still smiling. She even watched as they surrounded her, each keeping a reasonable distance away.

"This way comes three men, each of whom has knocked on Death's door with abandon, yet still they walk with the living." Her voice was from another world. It didn't belong to a thing with vocal cords or a diaphragm, she simply spoke and words leaped from her lips.

"She knows when we'll die," Kettleburn told the other two. "She sees our deaths already."

She looked at him. Kettleburn tried to look into those empty eye sockets, but saw only the abyss. "Though pain follows you in your life, upon your end it will turn its eye away."

Kettleburn frowned. "Thank you?"

But she was already bored of him. She looked at Dumbledore, and watched him for a few seconds. "Those who seek to master Death have only disappointment ahead of them."

His eyes widened behind half-moon spectacles, and he inclined his head and said nothing.

"You have much suffering, both behind and in front of you," she continued. "But when the time comes, you personally invite Death to your door."

She turned to Windstrum then, and tilted her head. "You, on the other hand," her smile grew wider, showing cracked teeth, "your suffering has scarcely begun."

Windstrum raised an eyebrow.

"You have brushed with Death without a care in the world. Yet when He chooses to take you, you go kicking and screaming."

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "You see my future, you know I suffer. Am I to assume you know everything that is going to happen?"

She looked at him appraisingly. "The shore can be clear to the trained eye without glancing at the murky depths."

"But you still see it?" Dumbledore pressed. "Is Voldemort defeated?"

"All things must come to an end."

"Well, we can't just wait for him to grow old," Windstrum snapped. "What about my future? Do I ever find out who Blithe is?"

She looked at him and though she had never stopped smiling, now she looked genuinely amused, like a joke had passed between them.

He frowned. "What? Answer me!"

"I think she is answering," Kettleburn whispered to him.

Windstrum's frown deepened. "What kind of answer is that?"

She looked away from him and her smile faded. "I grow weary of this. You all survive this encounter, though I know not how."

She opened her mouth wide suddenly, but no noise came out. It took Kettleburn a moment to realize she must be screaming.

Dumbledore waved his wand in a short motion, and her body quivered for a moment before it swayed and dropped to the floor.

A moment passed while they all stared down at her. Windstrum looked unimpressed. "How incredibly foreboding."

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On Friday morning, Severus was in very high spirits. Lily had walked past him in the corridor the previous day, after students were allowed out of their Common Rooms, and she'd smiled brightly at him. _Brightly_.

He smiled to himself at the back of Potions class. He'd tried to pair with her for the task of brewing a hiccoughing solution, but he hadn't been fast enough. It was fine. The plan he had in place was good enough, and he only had to wait one more day.

"What are you so smug about?" Rosier asked, prodding him on the shoulder.

Rosier was not a terrible partner, all things considered. He was somewhat intelligent, and knew enough to know not to interfere whatsoever while Severus did all the work. He did have a nasty habit of talking from time to time, though.

"The potion is done," Severus said shortly.

"Oh, brilliant. Good show, Severus." He went back to reading a lewd magazine.

Severus let his gaze wander around the room. He found Potter and his friends, but promptly swept over them, not wanting to spoil his mood. He focussed on Lily instead. She was talking to Alice Prewett. Lily was smiling, oh, how Severus loved that smile, and Prewett was nodding, which was of little consequence, and then they broke into identical grins and hugged. It seemed like something of a heartfelt moment for the two.

Severus wondered briefly if Lily would hug him, once they were friends again. She used to hug him. Not often, in fact only a small handful of times, but Severus could still remember how it felt. It was like a static shock over his whole body, while a buffalo writhed about in his belly. Every time, he had just felt so incredibly warm. Not just physically, but something in his mind, in his heart, became warm and tepid, like a still lake by a farm on a sweltering day.

He still couldn't believe he was going to get it back. And at no cost, too. He had realized, over the last month, that he was awfully good at secrecy. Severus didn't need to choose. He could serve the Dark Lord and love Lily Evans, be around, be _with_ Lily Evans, all at the same time. Mulciber and Rosier and Travers and the lot of them would remain none-the-wiser, Lily would be appeased about Severus ostensibly not keeping company with those fools any longer, and the whole time he would have it all at once.

His hope bubbled and fizzled and popped in his belly, much like the hiccoughing solution had in its earlier stages.

He stirred the potion and breathed in its foul smell. It was all coming together.

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"As far as meeting places go," said Lily on Saturday morning, keeping her hands carefully folded on her lap, "I can think of ones more sanitary."

The Gryffindor changing room wasn't actually that unsanitary. It was just a changing room, no mess, no overbearing smell, with a blackboard that had Quidditch formations scribbled on it.

"It's the most private place there is," Frank said dismissively, surveying the blackboard with his hands on his hips. "No one comes here without James' express permission."

"Don't wipe that off," James said urgently. "We still haven't finished going through it all."

Marlene made a face. "Again?"

"Yes, McKinnon. Again. Our first match is coming up and we're still not ready."

Frank turned the blackboard around and started writing on the other side. _What do we know?_

They all looked at the words for a few seconds.

Marlene spoke up first. "Snape, Mulciber, and Travers seem to be at the middle of it."

Lily's eyes snapped over to her. "What? No, Severus isn't involved with-"

"Evans," snapped Sirius. "I witnessed them discussing it."

"Discussing what?"

"Recruitment."

She scoffed. "How can you be sure? Did they explicitly say 'Hey, let's go kill some Mudbloods', and-"

"Really hate that word," Frank muttered.

"He was talking to Regulus," Sirius said. "They said nothing explicitly incriminating, but the sub-text was quite clear. Not to mention I spoke with Regulus in private immediately afterwards, and he confirmed it all."

Frank nodded and wrote Snape, Mulciber, Travers, and Regulus down.

"And Rosier," said Alice. "I overheard him talking to Mulciber about meeting Snape this morning. I couldn't get any details, though."

Frank looked at her, and there was something indecipherable in his eyes. Alice shifted uncomfortably. James cleared his throat and Frank turned away like nothing had happened, and wrote Rosier's name down too.

Lily had to admit, something about all of them being together was awkward. Between Frank, Alice, James, and even herself, they had all made this needlessly complicated and uncomfortable. But she had more pressing matters on her mind at present. "I thought Snape had changed."

"Some people never change," said James.

She looked at him hard and he looked away.

"Other people do," he added quietly.

Alice slipped an arm around his waist. No one else seemed to notice, but Lily did.

"So what do we do?" asked Remus.

Frank didn't hesitate. "We'll watch their every move. Follow them. Learn who they're talking to, who the people they're talking to are talking to. The next time they meet, we'll be there, catch them in the act."

The others nodded around Lily. Lily was barely listening. Anger started to boil inside her. Had Snape been playing her for a fool this last month? Did he really think her to be that stupid? In fairness, she had believed him. Perhaps she was that stupid. This only made her more angry.

"James, Sirius, Remus, Peter," said Frank, "I'll leave it to you four to facillitate the following of our suspects. I know you can't tell us how, but you're the best ones for the job. Bring one of the rest of us with you whenever you can. Conversely, the rest of us will watch anyone else in Slytherin House carefully. Anyone suspicious will be added to the list of people to follow."

Lily tuned the rest out, so caught up was she in her anger.

When they each went their separate ways, Lily parted from Alice and Marlene, saying she was going to the Owlery. Really, she just wanted to be alone. She was standing on a secluded balcony on the third floor when a small, brown owl fluttered into her vision and slowed as it approached her. She held out her arm and it perched on it before sticking its leg out to her. She pulled off a letter tied with a red bow.

It was Snape's handwriting.

"Go to the courtyard on the second floor," she read aloud.

A few questions sprang to mind, but they were quashed by her urge to confront him. She shouldn't go, and she certainly shouldn't go alone, her brain told her. She didn't listen.

She reached the courtyard in minutes, but it was empty when she got there. She looked around, knowing Snape to at least be above practical jokes. There was a letter tied to a bench. It had the same red bow on it.

"There are some cauldron cakes beneath the bench. I know how partial you are to them. Your next stop is the portrait of Warren the Wretched on the first floor…"

She couldn't believe it. He had given her a bloody treasure hunt.

She crumpled the paper and threw it onto the ground before setting off for the first floor. She would finish this little game of his. And he had better be there at the end when she did.

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He watched her approach from a distance. Her red hair was unmistakable, swaying in the wind.

Severus glanced once more at the picnic mat, making sure everything was laid out just right. French toast, apple pie, and vanilla ice cream, placed perfectly symmetrical on the plates. Each plate was the same distance from each other, too. Severus had spent the last half hour obsessing over it all - it had to be perfect. The books were stacked perfectly, of course. A History of Magic, Witches in the Twentieth Century, and The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 6.

In short, it was all her favorites.

The hope was back in his belly, soaring and swooping, making him feel so incredibly alive in that moment as Lily approached him. She was close enough for him to see her face, now. She was… glaring at him?

"Mulciber, Severus?"

"I'm sorry?" he asked, leaning forward, sure that he'd misheard her.

When she reached him, her eyes were cold. She didn't even look at the picnic mat. "Travers? Rosier? You're still with that lot?"

She had seen him with them at some point. Somehow, she had seen him. She must have. It was the only explanation.

"We're in the same House, of course they'll be somewhere near me from time to time," he laughed, waving it off.

She relaxed. "Oh. Okay, that's a relief."

He laughed again. "Yeah. Hey, look at this picn-"

"Just to be clear," she said loudly, "you're saying that you don't associate with them? You've made your choice? Turned away from all that Death Eater business?"

He looked her full in the eyes, knowing he had to sell this. "Of course, Lily. I choose you."

She stepped closer. "Really?"

He inched forward too. "Yeah."

"This is your full honesty, Snape? Nothing else to tell me?"

"Yes, Lily," he said, smiling widely.

Her face fell. "Damn."

He faltered. "What?"

"I don't know. I was just really hoping you'd at least admit it. Then I could stay angry."

"What?" he repeated.

"I'm not even sad," she seemed to realize. "I don't feel… any sorrow about this. Maybe- Maybe I knew it would just come to this again, but this… doesn't surprise me at all. What does surprise is how much I just," she gestured wildly, searching for a word, "don't care anymore."

"Lily, what are you talking about?"

She suddenly seemed to remember she hadn't explained herself to him. "I know you're recruiting Death Eaters, Snape. Right under Dumbledore's nose. You've been doing it from the day we came back to school and you thought I wouldn't hear."

"Lily, hold on-"

"You even tried to lie." Her voice was empty, devoid of emotion.

"Lily, listen, _please!_ I need you to hear-"

"I don't care anymore, Snape. I thought I could save you. Bring you back."

"Lily." His voice broke, and he could feel tears threaten to break.

"You won't hurt me anymore. It's over. _Completely_ over this time. I want nothing to do with you."

"You don't mean that," he whispered, the tears starting to spill.

"Don't approach me. Don't talk to me. I'd frankly rather you not even look at me anymore."

He had known Lily to never ignore someone who was upset. Now she looked at him with those uncaring green eyes, and that's what finally told him it was done.

"Lily," he cried, spittle flying from his lips. "Please!" Tears flowed fully done his cheeks, he was aware of a little snot dribbling down his lip, he knew he looked properly disgusting.

She turned and walked away. "Goodbye, Severus Snape."

He looked at her retreating form until he couldn't see those fiery red locks anymore. Then, he fell to his knees and wept even harder.

In those moments, the last dregs of his hope left him, never returning from then to his dying breath, leaving only bittersweet memories.


	12. Eugenia

The Fifth Year girl, Priya, waved her wand and the whiskery little mouse sitting on the table vanished.

"Very good," said James, leaning down to inspect the table. "Almost perfect."

She frowned. "Almost?"

He picked up part of a whisker and held it to the light between his thumb and forefinger. "There is still some mouse left."

Her face fell and she put her wand down on the desk, glancing out the classroom window with a disheartened expression.

"Don't worry," he said, discarding the whisker and smiling at her. "It's a complex spell, and you still have months before O.W.L's. Just keep working at it. McGonagall will have a few more classes on this throughout the year."

She nodded and James turned to the next student, who was struggling to keep his mouse on the table.

Sirius cleared his throat quietly and approached Priya. "Try not to flourish your wand too much when you wave it at the end," he said gruffly, before moving away with James to the next student.

James looked sideways at him with half a grin and Sirius pointedly ignored him.

After another half hour of this, James called the tutoring session to an end and dismissed them, feeling very good about himself as he did so. There were around fifteen students who came to his little sessions each week now, and he'd be lying to himself if he said he didn't look forward to it.

Sirius glanced at him as they walked back to Gryffindor Tower. "You're grinning like an idiot, you know."

"Hey," James frowned, "that's how I always grin."

"Exactly."

He rolled his eyes. "I can't help it, Padfoot. I'm in a good mood. Helping people is surprisingly rewarding. You yourself have been getting more and more enthusiastic about this tutoring business each week."

"_Enthusiastic_ is a criminal over-exaggeration," Sirius said, holding up a finger and frowning. "I add a couple of things here and there, steer them right."

"And you enjoy it," James said with a devious grin.

Sirius opened his mouth to retort and then closed it, looking forlorn. "Merlin's chest hair, you're right, James. I've officially gotten soft. Quick, when was our last prank?"

"Last year, I believe."

His face fell. "You're joking."

"I never joke."

"You always joke."

"When everything I say is funny, what even constitutes as a joke?"

"This is no time to joke, Prongs. You've succeeded in turning us into law-abiding, Hufflepuff-loving shells of our former selves."

"Nothing is wrong with Hufflepuffs."

"There you go again, changing everything we've built our empire on. Did you ever even care, Prongs?"

"No. I'm a spy sent by McGonagall to topple the Marauders and bring about your personal demise."

"I knew it."

"Sirius, I don't know what to tell you," James said, wrinkling his nose. "I don't have time to do half the stuff we used to. Between training three new players up to a competitive level before the game this weekend, following Snivellus around the castle, and maintaining my position as the brightest student on the continent, I can barely fit in much else."

"I know." Sirius grimaced. "If I'm being completely honest, I don't even see much appeal in throwing things at Hufflepuffs anymore. It seems stupid now."

James looked at him with the smallest smile but said nothing.

"Who would have thought," said Sirius, "that out of all the people to turn me away from a life of degeneracy, it would be you, Prongs?"

James snorted. "I certainly never had."

Sirius grinned, then looked at him curiously. "You know, Prongs, in a short amount of time, you've really done a lot of changing."

James raised an eyebrow at him.

"I mean, when your dad told us he doesn't have long left you immediately jumped on this train of _being better_... y'know, maturing and what have you, and we came back to school and you had changed a bit - easier on the teachers, more palatable for Evans, that kind of thing. But it had seemed like a somewhat minimal effort, for lack of a better word. Then you kept changing. It was in really small ways but I think they were really important."

"Like what?"

"You're far more," he made a face, "conscientious. More critical of yourself. More focused on what you can do for others, and dedicating yourself to those things. You still have more than enough of the younger you in there for me to tolerate, believe me, if anything you still have far too much of it-"

"Nice."

"-so you're not getting boring on me or anything. I'm just amazed at how quickly it all happened."

"Thank Alice for that, I suppose."

"You're selling yourself short, mate. You did a lot of it yourself. Where it was necessary, she gave you the extra push." He offered a genuine smile. "I'm proud of you, Prongs."

James glanced at him, touched, and clapped him on the shoulder. "I appreciate that. I appreciate you helping me sort through it all, too. Though there's a long way yet to go, I'd imagine."

Sirius opened his mouth with a wry smile on his face, but stopped short when a low voice reached them from the corridor just ahead that intersected theirs. They crept to the corner and stayed back, listening.

"-I haven't given you my answer yet."

That was Regulus Black's voice, James reckoned. This was confirmed for him by Sirius tensing by his side.

"You don't need to," came Mulciber's smooth tone. "It's merely a meeting for anyone interested. You don't have to commit just yet."

"I'm surprised at Snape. This is unusually trusting of him."

"Only those who we are sure will join us when the time comes are invited."

"And you are sure I will join you?"

"Of course."

Regulus sounded amused. "You're right, naturally. Although I have half a mind to refuse now, purely on the basis of you presuming to reckon on my acceptance. This notwithstanding, though, I still have misgivings about a meeting. If we are caught-"

Mulciber snorted. "We will not be caught."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because the meeting will be during the _Quidditch game_. This Saturday, in the dungeons, there is no chance of an eavesdropper or an uninvited guest happening upon us."

There was a moment of silence before Regulus laughed. "He has really thought this through, hasn't he? That Snape."

"That he has. You might not think it possible, but over the last week or two he has somehow become even _more_ cold and disdainful. I have no doubt that every aspect of this meeting has been meticulously planned, and I'm more than willing to trust his judgement."

Their voices were getting quieter, further away.

"Brilliant. All those fools will be watching their sport while we meet under their noses," came Regulus' faint voice, filled with a smile. "Potter, Longbottom, my brother and the rest of them. All fools. And they will die like fools."

Sirius snarled and made to lunge out into the corridor.

"Hey." James grabbed his arm and pulled. "We can't let them know we overheard this. We have to let them meet, and when they do, we'll barge-"

Sirius yanked himself free and took half a step into the corridor. James grabbed him by the waist and twirled him back out, hoping their quarries hadn't noticed, and pushed Sirius further away.

His friend opened his mouth but James got there first. "Silencio."

Sirius yelled, then glared when no noise came out, and James shrugged apologetically. Before James could do more, Sirius made a quick sprint for the corridor. James dove after him, reached for his arm and missed, grabbed onto Sirius' ankle just as he hit the ground, and Sirius tripped just shy of the corridor and fell. James pulled him back by the leg and Sirius kicked out, knocking his glasses off.

"Hey," he said with a frown, rubbing his jaw.

Sirius pulled his leg free and got up, but James ran forward and tackled him, and they both hit the ground again.

"I know you just want to punch something," James growled at him as they wrestled on the floor, "but I can't let you punch _them_. If you really have to then punch me, Padfoot."

Sirius punched him.

James recoiled in surprise and swung blindly at Sirius, but Sirius batted his arm aside and pushed himself away, coming to a stop by the wall. He sat back and rested his head against it. James stared at him, still on the ground, and slowly sat up too, pushing himself against the opposite wall.

He surveyed his friend while massaging his cheek, then undid the silencing charm. "Feel better?"

Sirius exhaled heavily and coughed, glaring at a spot on the ceiling. "I hate you."

James snorted, somewhat breathless. "Love you too, Padfoot."

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Eugenia Jenkins, Minister for Magic and eater of souls, if the press were to be believed, was tired. She never let it show, and she certainly never let it affect her work, but she was tired. Tired of the old and cranky Purebloods who hated her for being Muggle-born, and tired of the fragile, spiteful men who hated her for being a powerful woman. Predictably, there was a lot of crossover between the two groups. Unfortunately, many of them were influential, well-respected individuals, whom she had no choice but to pretend not to hate.

Respect is so fickle, Eugenia mused, as she walked through dimly lit Ministry corridors to her office. It didn't always come to those who deserved it, nor was it particularly easy to take away from those who decidedly did not.

On that point, Morgan Bulstrode appeared by her side and matched her brisk pace. His face was bland, with hints of unpleasantness lurking behind his eyes and in his crude smile. "Eugenia, how are you faring?"

"Fine," she said with gritted teeth.

"Ah, splendid. I was concerned this morning's paper might have dampened your spirits."

"You mean the two-page spread labelling me as mad and unfit for office?"

Bulstrode gave her a simpering smile. "Yes. Many have clearly taken poorly to your... announcement, it seems."

"If those people think they can change my mind, they are sorely mistaken. Hatred towards Muggles _will_ be made a crime. It should have always been a punishable offence. The law must change, and I'll make sure it happens, no matter the cost."

"You yourself are Muggle-born," he pointed out, wagging a finger. "Some might call you biased."

"And I might call some bigoted."

He laughed and clapped his hands. "Yes, very good!" Then he quickly grew serious. "But this does raise an ethical question, my dear. You wish to police the way people think and the things that they say. Does that not strike you as dangerous?"

"Not if the things that people think and say are dangerous."

"Your wit is as sharp as ever, I see."

"And my patience is just as short. What do you want, Bulstrode?"

They had reached her office. _Jenkins_ was plastered onto the door, nice and simple. Eugenia loathed over-extravagance.

"I simply wish to discuss the matter further with you," he said, spreading his hands wide and offering a humble smile. "This is an important issue that could set a disastrous precedent. I think a healthy discourse on the matter would go far in aiding our search for the best path forward."

She raised an eyebrow and twisted the door handle. "I see. Well, it will have to be some other time. I have company at the moment."

He frowned. "Who?"

She opened the door and revealed Anton Windstrum sitting in the hard-backed chair before her desk.

He glanced back at them when the door opened. His eyes settled on Bulstrode and he grinned. "Hi Morgan."

Bulstrode glared at him with hate in his eyes. "Windstrum. I hear you have taken up employment with that fool, Dumbledore. Let you out of the castle, has he?"

Anton shrugged. "I only graduated a handful of years ago so I didn't think I'd ever be cooped up in there again. He doesn't begrudge me a little walk-about every now and then."

Bulstrode seemed surprised to have gotten a genuine answer. He pressed his lips together firmly, glared once more at him, nodded to Eugenia, and stormed away with a twirl of his cloak.

Eugenia closed the door behind him. "I forget the two of you have a history," she said lightly, draping her coat over the back of her chair and sitting down behind the desk.

"He wanted me to have your job, you know - to be the Minister. He thought I could be a puppet for him."

"And then you left to travel the world and the job came to me," she said with a wry smile.

"Yeah. Listen, about that," he said, frowning slightly, "I would have thought that Bulstrode would _despise_ you for it. You're quite possibly the last person I'd imagine him wanting to become the Minister, yet from what I hear you're quite the merry pair, the two of you."

She snorted. "Believe me, there is nothing merry about it."

"But you vouched for him," he pressed. "I did some digging, Eugenia. After you got the job, Dumbledore tried convincing you to demote him. Instead, you kept him on as one of your advisors, giving him a foothold in the Ministry and access to all sorts of valuable information."

Her friendly demeanor quickly evaporated. "What are you implying, Anton?"

"Eugenia, I've known you a long time. I even remember you _babysitting_ me for your Summer job while you were still in Hogwarts and I was but a child. You're a good person and I've always trusted you. This is why I haven't yet arrested you."

"_Excuse_ me?"

"I'm going to ask you a question, and I need you to look me in the eyes and answer honestly."

She surveyed him for a moment, his blue eyes swirling beneath a furrowed brow, and drilled him with a cold stare.

"Who is Blithe?" he asked, leaning forward and staring hard into her eyes.

She frowned. "Who?"

He watched her unblinkingly, appraisingly, like he was searching her face for something. She could see gears turning behind his eyes, and she was just about to threaten him back when he suddenly leaned away and started laughing with a relieved look on his face.

"Thank Merlin. I doubted it, of course, but I had to make sure."

"Windstrum, if you don't explain yourself immediately-"

"Morgan Bulstrode is our number one suspect of being a spy for Voldemort who goes by the name of Blithe. Caradoc Dearborn and I have been trying to find some evidence for over a month now, but he's covering himself up superbly. We haven't found a thing." He sighed. "Blithe could be anyone with significant influence in the Ministry, really. Blithe could be right in front of us and we wouldn't know it. But we suspect Bulstrode the most, and anyone associated with him - potentially, that even included you."

She soaked in this information and didn't respond.

"It does beg the question, though… why? Why keep him on as one of your advisors?"

She looked at him critically. "The answer to that could ruin my career. I'm not sure I'm inclined to tell it to someone who just threatened to have me removed from office."

He inclined his head. "Forgive me, Eugenia. I have simply gone to a great deal of trouble over the past few weeks trying to get to the bottom of this. I risked my life on many occasions, and have come far too close to death for just a clue."

"And I suppose that your suspecting of me is why I haven't heard about this mission between Dearborn and yourself before now?"

"Indeed. Our orders are from Dumbledore."

"Does Emmett Fawley know of this? As interim Head of the Auror Department, I'm sure he could offer some assistance."

Anton shook his head. "We cannot afford to tell anyone. No risks. I must ask of your discretion, too."

She pursed her lips. "This whole operation sounds rather dodgy to me, Anton…"

"And your support of Bulstrode sounds dodgy to me, Eugenia."

She grimaced. "You won't overlook that, I see."

"Please," he said, "I need to know."

She sighed and leaned back in her seat. "There isn't much to know, really. But the little there is to this story could hinder all the work I intend to do if it got out. I am counting on _your_ discretion." She looked at him significantly until he nodded.

"I will have to tell Dumbledore, of course. And Caradoc. But outside of that, you have my word."

She made a face. "Caradoc? Is that really necessary?"

"It is. We are partners on the investigation."

After another moments' reluctance, she gave in. "Very well, if you must. Now, it happened just after you left England. I was campaigning, but I had very little backing and was most definitely not going to get the job. Bulstrode approached me. Offered to _guarantee_ that I became Minister, provided he have a certain degree of power within my administration."

Anton frowned. "He made you Minister? Why?"

She shrugged. "He had a number of incentives. Foremostly, word had gotten out that he had tried grooming _you_ for the job. Rumors were circulating about him, about his prejudice and his scheming, and he didn't have long left before he could lose the position of power he so loves. Making me Minister quelled these rumors, while giving him even greater control than he had before, at the minor cost of having another Muggle-born Minister in the last decade. He manages to oppose any change I try making well enough, so it suits him fine."

Windstrum frowned and steepled his fingers. "That all but confirms it. Bulstrode matches everything we know about Blithe. With a little more evidence, we might even be able to make an arrest."

"Remember, this can't get into the open, Anton. If my Muggle-born supporters knew I only got here by effectively selling my soul to the likes of Morgan Bulstrode, I will surely be kicked out. I know this sounds selfish and tyrannical, but I am not ready to lose this position. I have already done so much for the Muggle-born community, and there is so much more to come. Once this new legislation to criminalize anti-Muggle sentiment passes, feel free to yell it atop the mountains."

Anton snorted. "I won't be yelling it to anyone, Eugenia. Frankly, I don't care. You're a fantastic Minister, regardless of how you got to where you are. In a perfect world, you would have become Minister based solely on your clear aptitude, merit, and passion, but the world is flawed and you did what you had to do. It will be a sad day when you leave your post."

She gave him a heartfelt smile but quickly smothered it, pointing a finger toward the door. "If that will be all then, Windstrum, you had best leave before I have you arrested for threatening me. Don't think I forgot about that."

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The others were already gathered when Alice walked into the classroom on the fifth floor the night before the Quidditch game. They looked over with alarmed faces but relaxed when they saw her.

Frank spoke as she closed the door behind her. "Okay. Now that we're all here, we'll get down to business. Snape organizing a meeting with everyone we need to suspect could not be more ideal for us. This is our best opportunity to identify them all, and possibly even expose anything incriminating. Unfortunately, the meeting is happening tomorrow morning, during the Quidditch."

"Cunning bastard," muttered James.

Alice sat next to Lily and gave her a smile before surveying the room. Peter and Remus were sitting on Lily's other side. Sirius and Marlene sat atop desks next to where James perched on a desk of his own. She smiled to herself as she looked at her boyfriend. A month of dating had come as a surprise for them both. What had started as a languid attempt to fill the void that other people had left in their hearts had turned into genuine affection and care for one another, and she found that James Potter had quickly meant more to her than she could ever have anticipated. He was the friend that she'd never known she'd needed, different from Frank, different from Lily and Marlene. His easy confidence and self-assurance amplified the same qualities in her, and she knew she was much more jaunty and nonchalant than the well-mannered and gentle Alice from a few short months ago. In return, she knew she had done much for him, from working through his inhibitions regarding his self-worth to preparing him for his inevitable courtship of one of her best friends. And therein lay the problem, Alice realized. James and herself had taken to each other like gas to a balloon, but after a point, the longer they were together the less bouyant that balloon was, running out of gas and drifting its way down. James' glances towards Lily had grown more and more lingering, Alice had noticed. She hadn't thought it would bother her but, crazily enough, it did - not least of all because she knew he would be happier with Lily. In turn Alice found her own eyes dragged, kicking and screaming, to Frank Longbottom, despite her best efforts. They had known this was only temporary from the start, and she could tell that James was ready to move on. So was she, for that matter.

As expected, her gaze drifted to Frank next. She felt the usual thrill and lightness in her stomach as she studied his face, a feeling she had only recently realized had been there all this time, albeit to a lesser extent, and she fought the familiar feeling of urgency to be close to him. He was her best friend, though they hadn't acted like it for some time now. Was he still dating Amelia Fawcett? She didn't know. She would have liked not to have cared either, but that ability was well beyond her now.

"Snape knows we've been watching him," said Frank. "The timing of the meeting tells us that much. James, Marlene and myself will be playing Quidditch, cutting our numbers almost in half. It falls to the rest of you to handle this yourselves. Sirius will be in charge while you're-"

"Why Sirius?" asked Lily lightly, doing her best to look innocent.

Frank paused and looked at her. "What do you mean?"

"How come Sirius is in charge?"

Alice fought a smile away as Frank's brow furrowed in confusion and he scratched his head.

"Because…"

"Did you even consider Alice or myself instead?" Lily pressed.

"Yes," said Frank defiantly. "I considered you all."

"Even Peter?" Marlene asked, looking doubtful.

"Hey," said Peter slowly.

"I chose Sirius because he is a good duelist, and-"

"We are just as good if not better at dueling than Sirius," Lily interrupted.

Sirius snorted. "Not likely."

"Evans," piped up James, "it's not a big deal, stop being dramatic."

"Uh oh," muttered Remus.

"Not a big deal?" exclaimed Lily, outraged. "Not a big _deal_? Being treated equally is a very big deal to me, Potter. I'll have you know-"

"Okay," Frank cut in loudly, "we're getting off topic. She has a point, so Lily will have operational command-"

"What?" Sirius cried.

"-and that's final. Now, let's move on," Frank said, "to actually discussing a plan."

"Yes," said Lily. "But first I just want to clarify that he's putting me in charge _not_ because I'm a girl but because I deserve to be in charge."

"Make up your mind," Sirius protested. "Do you want to be in charge because you're a girl or not?"

"Can we move on please?" Frank asked weakly.

"It shouldn't just be because I'm a girl," Lily explained with a roll of her eyes.

"But it is!" Sirius gestured wildly between himself and Lily. "It is literally the reason Frank changed his mind!"

"You're so close-minded, Sirius," Marlene sniggered, nudging him provokingly.

"_How_?"

"None of this matters anymore," Frank called, his voice strained. They quietened and looked at him. "Snape has had a lot of time to plan this, and he will not be an easy person to get the best of. We need to discuss what we're going to do."

Each of their expressions grew more serious, and they all slowly nodded at him and waited.

"I have a few ideas," Frank continued. "And with your permission, Lily, I'd like to outline them to you all."

Lily nodded primly. "Very well, Longbottom. Proceed."

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James was not pleased for two reasons. Firstly, his new objective was to drag the Quidditch game on for as long as possible so that students wouldn't flood back into the castle too early. His original game plan had been to drag out the game anyway in order to rack up as many points as possible, but he would have likely called it a day at three hundred points or so - now that it was more a matter of time than points, he felt he had lost some degree of control over the whole thing. His Seeker, Smith, hadn't been plenty impressed when James had relayed this to him. James couldn't blame him. From a Quidditch perspective, it was pretty dumb. James had given him the very vague and very unhelpful instructions of "Don't catch the Snitch, and don't let them catch the Snitch. Got that?" Smith had grunted and walked off.

The second reason James was displeased was due to the cause of all this trouble. Damn Snape, who had to go and plan this meeting during the Quidditch, not only forcing James away from interfering, not only inconveniencing James' Quidditch strategies, but also taking his head out of the game and ruining his concentration.

The bludger came for his head and he ducked under it, feeling his hair ruffle as it passed above him and bringing his attention back to the game. Madam Hooch blew her whistle - headshots warranted a foul.

Marlene and Eamon O'Brien flew over to him.

"Do you want one of us to take the shot, Potter?" asked Marlene, watching him closely. "You don't seem yourself."

James shook his head. "I was just distracted."

"Don't take this the wrong way, Potter," said Eamon carefully, "but you've been distracted all game. Let one of us take the shot. It's what we've been training for, right?"

James surveyed the two of them. They were right, of course. He was too put-off by the idea of his friends going up against Snape without his help. He realized that this was incredibly arrogant, as they were all just as capable as him, but he would have felt a whole lot better if he was with them.

He wasn't with them, though, and it was affecting his game - he was letting his team down. He expelled all thoughts of what was going on in the dungeons and nodded. "You're right. Sorry. O'Brien, you'll take the shot. You're still a little more accurate than McKinnon."

Marlene nodded fairly, O'Brien steeled himself, and the two chasers flew off in the direction of the Hufflepuff posts, leaving James hovering halfway across the pitch. He glanced around and saw Frank looking at him concernedly. He gave the Head Boy a thumbs up and Frank nodded. James looked on and found his beaters, Murphy and Walsh, further along the pitch, watching as O'Brien hovered before the Hufflepuff posts, tossing the Quaffle in the air and catching it as he waited for Hooch to blow her whistle. Smith was hovering far above them all, scanning every inch of air around the pitch with an eagle's eye. The Hufflepuff seeker was hovering close to him with an identical expression of intense concentration.

Hooch blew the whistle and O'Brien instantly tossed the Quaffle at the left hoop, as carefree as if he were passing it at training. The keeper dove the wrong way and it sailed clean through, nice and simple.

The crowd roared and booed in equal measure and the commentator, a Ravenclaw with a bland voice, called out the score - sixty-fifty to Hufflepuff.

James grinned and readied himself. The Quaffle was brought back into play and he snapped into action, blitzing to the Hufflepuff chaser. The chaser swerved out of his path and James turned at a sharp angle to follow the chaser to the Gryffindor posts, a few brooms' lengths behind. A Bludger came careening through the air at the chaser, hit from Murphy's bat, and the chaser swerved again, right into Marlene, who snatched the Quaffle from a loose grip and sped off in the other direction. James turned once more, rolling in the air with his broom, and followed Marlene to the posts. She glanced back at him and he nodded. As she approached the Hufflepuff posts she threw the Quaffle straight up into the air. The keeper dove too early, expecting a shot, and as the Quaffle came back down James neared it, pulled up, and kicked out hard. His boot connected with the Quaffle with a resounding _thwak_ and it soared through the middle hoop, causing the crowd to erupt again.

Marlene pulled up alongside him. "Got your head in the game now?"

He grinned. "Just about."

"Good." She parted from him and turned in the air towards the Hufflepuff posts again. "Because there's no use stressing about how the others are faring. We need you here, Potter."

He smirked. "That much is clear." She glanced at him and rolled her eyes, which only widened his smirk. "Now come, McKinnon. Let's show the Hufflepuffs what it looks like when we're actually trying."

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"They're in the dungeons right now," said Sirius, walking back into the Common Room with Remus and Peter a step behind him. "Let's go."

Lily narrowed her eyes. "How do you know that?"

"It doesn't matter how I know that, Evans, I simply know that."

Alice patted Lily's arm. "Don't bother, Lily dear. They never give away their secrets, no matter what you say - not even James."

The Common Room was empty apart from the two girls and three Marauders. Lily despised that name they called themselves. _Marauders_. It was so indulgent and self-satisfied. So typically vintage James Potter. A small part of her wanted to smile at the thought. Lily hated that small part of her. She also equally hated her constant flip-flopping between affection and loathing towards the boy. This _I like him, I like him not_ business was beneath her.

Not that it mattered, but at that particular moment in time she liked him. In a wholly platonic and friendly way, mind.

"Lily?" Alice probed. "Shall we go?"

Lily shook herself a little to clear her head.

"Yes, let's wait for Lily to give us the order," said Sirius with a roll of his eyes, before setting off for the portrait hole.

"Black," Lily snapped, "hold on. We need to discuss the plan."

Sirius turned around and snorted. "What's to discuss? We go down there, listen until they're done, then run in and bash all their heads together."

"That _is_ basically the whole plan," Alice whispered to Lily.

Lily glared at her.

"All I ask," continued Sirius, "is that you leave Regulus Black to me. I'll even save Snape for you, Evans. You can go easy on him and all."

Lily fumed and clenched her fists. "I don't intend to 'go easy' on anyone, Black."

"Please," he scoffed, "we all know you're soft on him. If James did _half_ the things Snape's done you'd already have cursed him to oblivion!"

"Padfoot, stop being a twit," muttered Remus.

"Well, am I wrong?"

Remus looked away uncomfortably.

Lily's jaw set. "I assure you, Black, if what you are saying ever was true then it certainly isn't anymore. Now, if you would please take the wand from out your arse, I want to discuss a few specifics of the plan before we go charging into a dungeon full of Death Eaters - with just the five of us, to boot."

Sirius looked at her appraisingly for a moment before shrugging. "By all means, discuss away."

She raised an eyebrow and turned to address the others. "I want to stress that we are _not_ going in there to start a fight. We'll just listen for any important information and then shut the whole thing down."

Peter tilted head. "And then what?"

"And then Remus and I will hand out a few detentions, I suppose."

"That's it? We just shut it down, give them detentions, and then all go back about our business? They're not expelled for being _Death Eaters_?"

Lily hesitated. "It's complicated."

"How? Who in their right mind could justify keeping them at this school?"

"Dumbledore," said Remus quietly. "He could justify keeping just about anyone here, I'd imagine."

"Regardless," said Sirius, after a long glance at Remus, "they're a danger to all the other students here. What's stopping them from recruiting half the school for their little Death Eater club?"

"Us," said Lily. "_We're_ what's stopping them. That's why we're doing this!"

Alice nodded. "Dumbledore entrusted this job to us. Clearly he believes we're good enough."

"Why doesn't he just call that lot to his office and talk to them about it?" Peter pressed. "He can question them or teach them or… or something."

"Same reason he hasn't simply tracked down Voldemort and put some shackles on him yet," said Lily. They looked at her, waiting, and she shrugged. "It's just not that simple."

Sirius sighed. "Okay, Your Highness. No violence, no expulsion, no consequences at all, really. We'll barge in there, interrupt their meeting, and then what? Yell at them and shake our fists?"

"No," said Lily hotly, "we'll talk to them about the consequences of their actions and let them know that we've got our eyes on them-"

"We're going to yell at them and shake our fists," Alice groaned.

"It's going to be much more impactful than that," Lily insisted stubbornly. "Coupled with their detentions, we'll be striking a serious blow to the-"

"She doesn't even believe what she's saying," Alice told the rest of them.

"We can tell," said Remus with a grimace.

"I wish Frank were here," said Peter.

"And James," Sirius sighed.

"Okay, you lot," Lily snapped. "Let's go."

The corridors were all empty. It seemed that the rest of the school was watching the game. While the five of them strode through the empty castle, Lily briefly wondered how Gryffindor was faring. She could bet that James was working himself into a frenzy for not being with them. It was such a typical thing for James to do. Once again Lily found herself smiling at the thought of him.

The dungeons were just as cold, dark, and uninviting as they always were, and each of the teens made the unconscious decision to tiptoe their way across the damp stone floor. The walls were lined with torches and each twist and turn and branching corridor made Lily sure a Slytherin was waiting just a few steps away with a wand and a sick grin.

"They're just down here," Sirius whispered, coming to a sudden stop and pointing toward a branching corridor on their left. "This leads to the large room they're all gathered in."

"We can also continue forward," added Remus, gesturing ahead, "and reach the room's other entrance."

Lily bit her lip and nodded. "Alright. Remus, you and Peter go forward. Secure the area and then observe the lot of them from the other entrance. Alice, Black, and I will go this way. Do not let yourselves be seen, and do not engage before I give the signal."

Remus hesitated. "What's the signal?"

"I don't know. I'll gesture to you or something."

"What if we can't see you?"

"Look, it doesn't matter what the signal is. You'll know it when you see it, it'll be something clear and unusual."

"Just compliment Snivellus' hair," Sirius sniggered. "That's pretty unusual."

"Shut up, Black."

"Oh, Severus," said Sirius in a high-pitched voice, "your hair is so _shiny_."

Alice hid a snigger in a cough.

"That's quite enough," Lily said, sending Sirius a withering glare. "Let's go."

Remus and Peter went one way, Alice, Sirius, and Lily went the other. Sirius quietened once they had set off, which Lily was thankful for. She imagined he was being more of a prat because of his brother's involvement with Snape, but she wasn't sure, and she didn't much care either. She had decided to stop making excuses for people being indecent to her.

Voices reached them from further ahead, and they crept towards an archway beyond which was a small, dimly lit hall, about the size of two classrooms. The hall held about fifteen students sitting straight in their seats, all looking at one student in particular - Severus Snape. Lily felt a pang of hurt or guilt or affection, she couldn't decide what exactly, but whatever it was, it was small now, and negligible.

"-some of us have been serving the Dark Lord for many months now," he said to them all, standing before them and surveying each one with cool, dark eyes. "We are among the many, many followers who carry out his will, and we are the youngest of them all. Our job has been simple: to find more of us. This is why the rest of you have been invited here today."

At the far end of the room was another entrance. It was dark and impossible to see past that entrance, but Lily knew Remus and Peter would be waiting by it, listening in. Snape was looking around the gathered faces with a scrutinizing expression, and Lily quickly found the faces that he skipped. Mulciber, Avery, Dolohov, Rosier, and Travers. Those were the five who were already Death Eaters, the five who had most likely been there that day in Diagon Alley. The rest looked appreshensive, perhaps with the exception of Regulus Black.

"The Dark Lord has instructed us to find as many followers as possible before the new year is upon us, and you all are the chosen few."

A Fourth Year Slytherin whose name Lily did not know put her hand up. "What would we be doing once we join? Simply recruiting more of us?"

"For a time, yes, just like we have done until now. But a time is coming soon when we will be needed for more than that, and it is paramount that there are as many of us as possible."

"Do you know what that is exactly?" asked a Fifth Year Slytherin boy whose name Lily thought was Travis. "What the 'more' is that we'll be needed for?"

Snape regarded him coolly and didn't say anything.

"You'll find out when you need to find out," growled Mulciber.

Travis lowered his eyes.

"When Christmas break comes," said Snape, "we will be in touch. You might even get to meet the Dark Lord, if you're lucky. It is a life-changing experience, believe me. Before break comes, I expect you all to have-"

Duane Wilkes barged into the room from the other entrance, holding Peter Pettigrew by the collar. "Sorry to interrupt, Severus. I found _this _lurking about outside, eavesdropping on you all."

Alice gave a sharp intake of breath and Lily clapped a hand over her mouth. Sirius stiffened up beside them.

Snape's eyes widened on Peter and flicked quickly back to Wilkes. "Did you see anyone else?"

"No, he was alone."

"Go back," Snape said through gritted teeth, pulling his wand out. "Look again."

"Severus, there was no-one there-"

"There's never no-one," said Regulus, looking almost bored. "They'll be here."

"I came alone," Peter squeaked, but no-one was listening.

The lot of them got up from their seats, their expressions varying from panicked to determined, and made their way to the far entrance.

"Some of you check that entrance, too," said Snape, pointing almost directly at the archway that Lily, Alice, and Sirius were standing by.

Lily's heart stopped and she glanced at Alice and Sirius. They both looked to be at a loss for what to do."

"You got me!" Remus Lupin came running into the room from the other entrance with his hands up, making everyone pause and watch him. "Peter's not alone, I came with him."

The lot of them stared unsurely at him and then looked back at Snape.

Snape raised his arm and pointed his wand right at him. "Hello, Lupin. What brings you here?"

Remus smiled politely, keeping his hands in the air while gesturing vaguely. "Oh, you know. I just wanted a change of scenery and all. Lovely place you have down here, by the way."

"He expects us to believe my brother isn't lurking around here somewhere," said Regulus, sounding amused.

"Is Regulus right, Lupin?" asked Snape. "Is Black here, too?"

"Nope," said Remus, popping his lips like a child.

Snape smiled coldly. "I don't believe you."

"Bah, humbug."

"Kill him, Severus," said Rosier, a sick grin on his face.

"We can't kill him," snapped Mulciber. "Have you ever tried hiding a body, Rosier?"

Rosier's grin grew wider. "Yes."

Mulciber hesitated and then closed his mouth and looked away.

"I'll have to wipe your memory," said Snape, looking much calmer now. "I hope that's not an inconvenience for you, Lupin."

"Wipe away, my good man."

"Splendid. Of course," Snape looked at him thoughtfully, "that doesn't mean we can't torture you a little, first. And you, Pettigrew."

Peter's face paled. Remus didn't look particularly bothered.

"You see, Lupin, not all of us here have had the pleasure of torturing someone and, well…"

"Practice makes perfect," said Remus, nodding.

"Exactly! You are handling this superbly, I must say."

"Oh, it could only be due to how much of a consummate professional you are, Snape," Remus said, lowering his hands ever so slightly.

"Keep those hands up," Wilkes said quickly, jabbing his wand in Remus' back with his other hand still on Peter's collar.

Remus' hands went back up. "Of course, of course, how silly of me."

Snape's smile widened and he opened his mouth.

"Oh, Severus," said Remus suddenly, as if he'd remembered something important, "your hair is so _shiny_."

Sirius bolted into the room. "Expelliarmus!"

Snape's wand went flying from his hand and every head in the room turned in surprise. Lily and Alice ran in soon after him, sending jinxes flying with snarls on their faces. Some were hit by the jinxes and fell, others scrambled about in a panic, while still others pulled their own wands out and took aim. Remus dropped his hands and whipped his wand out in one fluid motion, disarming a Fifth Year who had taken aim at Alice. Even Peter wrestled himself free of Wilkes' grip and pushed himself away.

The five of them gathered in the middle of the room and faced outward at the throng of both hopeful and current Death Eaters, wands raised and eyes alert.

There was a lull, as if everyone in the room was waiting for a trigger.

"We don't need to fight," said Lily loudly, keeping her voice steady.

"And yet," said Snape, his black eyes boring holes into the side of her face, "we weren't the ones who started fighting."

Lily pointedly ignored his gaze.

Sirius scoffed. "You threatened to torture Remus and Peter. You started this, you slimy git!"

"Watch your tone, blood traitor," spat Travers, standing by Snape's shoulder.

Sirius changed his aim to Travers and Travers ducked back behind Snape.

"We didn't come here to fight you all, at any rate," said Lily, trying to reclaim a hold on the conversation. "We can all just talk."

"We aren't in much of a talking mood," Mulciber said quietly.

"That's a terrible attitude to have for a meeting, isn't it?" piped up Alice.

"You weren't invited to this meeting," said Rosier. "We should just kill you all."

"We're not killing anyone," Mulciber told him, sounding annoyed.

"Look," said Lily, "none of you have to do this. You don't have to become Death Eaters, you don't have to go to war, and you don't have to hurt anyone. It's not too late for you to turn away from all of this. I don't know what you all think you'll gain from this, but I promise you it won't be better than simply being with the people you love, people who love _you_, and enjoying life together with others - _it's not too late_."

There was a small silence and Lily met each pair of eyes staring at her with an equally fierce stare of her own.

"Now can we kill her?" Rosier asked quietly.

"No," snapped Mulciber, before turning to Snape and speaking quietly. "We can take them. There's just five of them."

Lily could still feel Snape's gaze trying to capture her own, and she steadfastly refused to meet it.

"At the very least we should wipe their memories," said Travers, peeking out from behind Snape to frown at them.

The five Gryffindors readied themselves, watching every movement carefully and waiting for the tension to break.

Eventually, Snape spoke. "Leave."

Lily's gaze finally snapped to him.

"All of you, not just our… guests. Leave at once." They all continued staring at him and he sighed. "The meeting was over anyway. And it doesn't matter what they heard, they can't prove a thing."

When the silence still prevailed, Mulciber frowned and addressed them all. "You heard him. Clear off, the lot of you. Go back to your Common Rooms or the Quidditch game. Go on, get _out_."

The Gryffindors didn't need telling twice. They strode quickly out the room, ahead of the others who were slowly dispersing, and continued at a brisk pace until they were well out of the dungeons and strolling through the brightly lit corridors again. Only then did they let their shoulders fall and slow breaths out.

Sirius poked Lily's arm and offered a small smile. "Yelling and shaking our fists wasn't so bad."

Lily snorted. As far as apologies for being a twit went, that was likely as far as Sirius Black was ever willing to go.

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At the end of a long week, Eugenia strode through the Ministry while fighting the temptation to just go home. She was an important person now, and apparently important people didn't get weekends.

Of course, there was a smattering of others who had come in for the day too, so Eugenia couldn't pity herself too much. Ministry workers in general never had much going on for the weekend. I should know, she thought to herself. I've been one for long enough.

The Auror Department was much less crowded than usual, with only a handful of people around. There was no receptionist, so Eugenia walked on to see the Head of the Department. It was a damn shame Potter had been taken out of action. Emmett Fawley was only interim Head in theory, but from the looks of it, the raid on the Goyle residence had put Potter into an early retirement. A damn shame indeed.

The door to the office was slightly ajar, and when Eugenia knocked it swung inwards.

Emmett Fawley and a man she didn't recognize looked at her sharply. The man had dark skin and was dressed in a crisp pink tuxedo. He watched her behind aviator sunglasses without moving a single muscle.

Fawley shifted beside him. "Eugenia. How can I help?"

She looked at him and smiled. "Good afternoon, Emmett. I'm just on my way to my office now, and I thought I'd check in for your progress report on the Balfour case."

He nodded. "I left it on your desk this morning."

"Oh, brilliant. Alright, I'll leave you to it then." With another smile and a curious glance at his friend, she closed the door behind her and set off for her office.

She had one more thing to do before she could call it a day and head home, and it would only take a moment. She had with her a clearfile containing some details of the expenses she would need to approve for the benefit of a man called Bronagh Douglass and his family. Bronagh had come across some evidence with the potential to put away Tobias Selwyn, a suspected Death Eater. He had been threatened to keep quiet lest his family be target, yet he came forward to Eugenia with the evidence anyway, and Selwyn was currently sitting in an Azkaban prison cell. Eugenia had taken it upon herself to ensure that Bronagh wasn't punished for his bravery and integrity, and he and his family were currently under Ministry protection.

At the stairs to the next floor, upon which was her office, she walked past Morgan Bulstrode. She groaned inwardly, but gave him a tight smile. He returned the smile widely and his eyes flashed as he passed her. Once he was gone and she had reached her floor, Eugenia's smiled soured and she repressed the urge to shiver. There was always something uncomfortable about being near Bulstrode.

Eugenia frowned as she walked towards her office and saw the door ajar. Fawley must have forgotten to close it on his way out. She walked in and saw nothing out of place, casting a critical eye over every inch of the room. She briefly glanced at Fawley's progress report before shrugging to herself and moving on to the filing cabinet by her desk. She tapped her wand to the bottom draw and pulled open, then slid her finger along the letters until she reached D.

Eugenia pulled the folder out and placed it on her desk, and then took out the expense report for Bronagh Douglass from the clear file she'd brought with her. She flicked through the folder until she reached the section for Bronagh that she'd highlighted in purple, then slid the report into the back of this section carefully. When it was done, she surveyed her handiwork and frowned.

The front page, containing all of Bronagh's new personal information, had a crease at the corner of the page. Were Eugenia not one who prioritized precision and neatness above all else, she wouldn't have noticed. But notice she did.

She frowned to herself. Could she have done it without noticing? The last time she had even taken this folder out had been perhaps a week ago and she had been sure it was all clean. The look in Morgan Bulstrode's eyes flashed in her mind again, and the words of Anton Windstrum ran in her ears. _Blithe could be right in front of us and we wouldn't know it._

Fear chilled Eugenia's bones. It couldn't be. This couldn't have happened.

She squeezed her eyes shut and turned on the spot, feeling herself compressed and stretched as she apparated. She opened her eyes and stood in a meadow. In front of her was a cottage, small and portly.

The Fidelius charm ensured that it was unfindable and unplottable, unless Eugenia Jenkins herself disclosed its location. And, like a fool, she had written it on a damn file.

The cottage had a wooden yellow door that usually struck Eugenia as cute when she saw it. It had been blasted off its hinges and splintered into pieces. She stepped over what was left of it and into the cottage.

The cottage didn't have a lot of rooms, and so it didn't take her long to see what she had dreaded seeing. Bronagh had been strapped to a chair. His body was still slumped in it, his head lolling to one side and his eyes wide open, whether in fear or excruciating pain Eugenia did not know. There was blood on his cheek that was still fresh and dripping, but she barely noticed.

Past Bronagh's chair, his wife and daughter lay on the ground, their eyes unseeing and their faces etched in fear. It looked like they had been struck down while running. She could still make out tears visible on the young girl's cheeks.

Eugenia fell to her knees, disbelieving and sickened. After a few minutes, she began to weep.

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"It's raining," Alice said softly.

James lifted a hand to her cheek and brushed his thumb against it lightly. It was only drizzling really, but already the two of them had droplets running down their faces, soaking into their hair and their clothes. It was cold.

"I'm going to miss you," she said. Her teeth had started chattering.

James smiled. "I'm not going anywhere. It's a small castle, really." He put his arm around her and ushered her towards the stands, away from the rain.

She nudged him as they sat. "You know what I mean."

He nodded. "Yeah."

The wind nipped at their faces, and James half wished they had gone inside before having this conversation. At least he had been able to change out of his Quidditch robes. They smelled when they were wet.

"We were pretty good together, don't you think?" she asked.

James grinned. "We were _damn_ good together." He looked at her and she had an identical expression. Neither of them could really say they were sad. "There was just something missing."

She looked away, surveying the Quidditch pitch. "I heard you played well."

"Yeah. Three hundred seventy to one hundred sixty. I'm pretty happy with that."

"So you were stressing this whole time over nothing?"

He gave her an exaggerated look of disapproval. "Quidditch is never nothing."

"Depends who you ask," she muttered.

He gasped, and she laughed and shoved him playfully. They were quiet for a good few minutes then, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder and simply enjoying each other's company one more time.

Eventually, Alice turned to him again with a curious expression. "Are you going to go after Lily immediately?"

James had to think about that one. Would he? Before Alice, he wouldn't have trusted himself not to be a prat in front of Lily again. He wouldn't have been able to resist being near her, trying to rile her up, and inevitably making her angry. Now, he felt like he didn't need to. He still wanted to be near her, it was almost paralyzing how much he wanted to be near her, but he knew himself well enough now, had a good enough grasp of himself, to resist. It was complex for him to think about and he struggled to put it into words, but the simplest, albeit minimalist, way of describing it was… maturity. In his conquest to be his best self, James knew that over the last few months he had moved forward by leaps and bounds, owed in large part to the fantastic girl sitting next to him. But he wasn't there yet.

"I don't think I'm ready," he said at last.

Were it anyone else, he would be unsure if they really understood that, but he knew she did.

Alice seemed satisfied with that answer and looked back at the pitch. It was properly pouring down now, and James wasn't looking forward to the trek to the castle.

"You love her," she said. She didn't phrase it as a question.

James snorted at how indubitable that was. "Of course."


	13. Halloween Spirit

"Are you going to the Halloween party tonight?"

As was customary every thirty-first of October, all anyone wanted to talk about was Halloween. Granted, it was somewhat difficult to _avoid_ talking about Halloween with bewitched jack-o-lanterns floating about in the corridors, pumpkin for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and a swarm of bats that someone had let loose in the castle, terrorizing every odd unfortunate student who wandered into the wrong corridor at the wrong time.

"I'm not sure," Lily told Marlene. "I've nothing to go as."

Marlene glanced at her doubtfully as they strolled down a decidedly bat-free corridor. "There are plenty of things to go as. I'm going as a Healer. You know that low-cut blouse I picked up from Hogsmeade last week? I'm going to-"

"That's another thing," Lily interrupted heatedly, "all the girls seem to think that they _have_ to dress promiscuously for Halloween, yet the boys get to go as Vampires and Quidditch players and Dementors. I'd like to see the guys show some skin for a change!"

''You and me both," Marlene said with a wink.

Lily gave her a look and shook her head. "We over-sexualize the whole thing, Marlene. And frankly, I'd rather not have a part in it."

"Oh, Lily. You're no fun."

"I simply respect myself too much," she sniffed.

"You need to enjoy yourself more, you know that?"

"I enjoy myself plenty."

"You are on your way to study in the library _as we speak_."

"Aren't you coming with me?"

Marlene shook her head. "No, I'm much too cool."

Lily rolled her eyes.

"But I'll try finding Alice and meet up with you when you're finished. Do you know how long you'll be?"

Lily wrinkled her nose. "A couple of hours, I should think. How about I just meet you in the Common Room later?"

Marlene shrugged. "That works." The corridor diverged into two seperate ways ahead of them, and they split off. "I'll see you later, then."

"See you."

Lily didn't dislike parties, nor was she opposed to letting loose. She tried to lock down on a precise reason then why she didn't want to go that night as she set off towards the library, and came up relatively short. She just really didn't feel like going to a party. Lily supposed that was a feeling that not a lot of people could possibly relate to, and she wasn't quite sure how to feel about being that weird exception.

The voice of James Potter drifted to her from further down the corridor and Lily paused, being absolutely positive that the boy had never in his life set foot in the library, before striding towards the sound. It came from a classroom with the door slightly ajar, and Lily stood by it and peered in.

"Lower your wrist, Benjy. Yes, that's it. Tilt it a little more."

He stood at the front of the classroom, Sirius by his side. Twenty-something students from an assortment of houses stood before the two with their wands out, muttering to themselves and waving them about.

"James," said a blonde girl with her hand raised, "I don't get what I'm doing wrong. The spell won't work."

He smiled, nodded, strode towards her and watched her do the spell, the vanishing charm from what Lily could tell, and she noted to herself that the girl's hand positioning was all wrong. James tapped his chin for a moment before explaining much the same to the girl, demonstrating for her how to do the spell properly before even repositioning the wand in her hand. Seeing this unexpected nurturing side to him brought a small smile to Lily's lips, though she wasn't aware of it.

Abruptly, James looked over and spotted her, and his face lit up. "Evans!"

She rolled her eyes and fought the smile away. "Potter."

He looked over to Sirius and tilted his head. "You take over, Padfoot. I must make sure our esteemed prefect isn't about to put us in detention for something."

"You don't think she knows about the nifflers we put in her dorm yet, do you?" Sirius called.

James shook his head firmly. "I can't imagine how she would have found out about that."

Sirius grinned and then looked away, walking to a student who had their hand up.

James shoved his hands in his pockets and walked over to the door with his messy black hair being somehow extra untidy. "Alright, Evans?"

Merlin, he looked stupid. She again had to stop herself from smiling. "Quite alright, thank you."

"To what do I owe the pleasure, then?"

"I was simply in the neighbourhood and I thought I'd stop by."

"By neighbourhood, I assume you mean this particular corridor. Going to the library?"

She raised an eyebrow. "I'm impressed you know where the library is, Potter. Surely you can't have ever stepped foot in there?"

"Ah, but alas, I have, Evans. Know thine enemy, as they say. And you can't exactly say I'm not studious." He gestured vaguely at the room. "I'm a tutor now!"

"I see that," she said, genuinely impressed. "Now I know who's been posting those crude and vulgar reminders on the noticeboards."

He grimaced. "That's Sirius' work, I'm afraid."

"Tell him that we all certainly could have done without the sexual innuendos."

"Believe me, I've already given him that lecture. Unfortunately, Sirius doesn't understand how _anything_ can function without sexual innuendos, so my words are falling on deaf ears I'm afraid."

She rolled her eyes and laughed, and he chuckled beside her, and after a few seconds they both quieted and looked at each other with something perhaps akin to fondness in their eyes. Before they were silent for too long, Lily asked the question that was all everyone else could talk about. "So what are you dressing up as for the party?"

He made a face. "Not going."

Her jaw dropped. "_You_?"

"Me."

"But you always go to parties. You and Black have become _synonymous_ with parties."

James shrugged. "I just don't feel like going to a party tonight. I know it's weird, especially from me, but there you go. Do you ever get that?"

Her grin grew wide, far too wide, and her eyes twinkled. "Yeah. Believe me, I do."

James smiled and nodded before his expression quickly changed to a frown. "I also have a detention tonight."

She burst out laughing. "_What_?"

"A Slytherin tried jinxing my Seeker so I put him in the Hospital WIng. McGonagall gave me lines to write for an hour while everyone else is partying."

Lily shook her head at him, still smiling. "So _really_, you're not going only because you don't have a choice."

"No, I really don't want to go," he said earnestly. "Only now I know McGonagall doesn't want me to go either, and you know how much I love pleasing authority figures, Evans. I get such a kick out of it."

She laughed again at his ridiculousness. "Potter, you are too much."

He gave her a lopsided grin and opened his mouth.

"Prongs," called Sirius, "I need your input."

James nodded at his friend and looked at Lily again. "Stick around, if you want. I'm sure we could use another Charms expert here."

She wanted to. She knew she wanted to. "No, I really should go study now," she said with a grimace. "I'm sure you'll do fine without me."

He rolled his eyes. "Of course we'll do fine without you. Am I not brilliant?"

"Correct. You are _not _brilliant." Without waiting for him to get another word in, she turned on her heel and strode from the room, with a goofy smile staying on her face all the way to the library.

Lily stayed in the library for three and a half hours, but she didn't manage to get a whole lot done.

She couldn't concentrate.

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On one hand, Rodolphus Lestrange and his lackeys all thought Caradoc Dearborn was a true and reliable Death Eater. On the other, all of his colleagues in the Auror Department thought he was loyal only to the Ministry, and that all he did was Auror work. In reality, on an invisible third hand, Caradoc took orders directly from Albus Dumbledore himself. It was all quite confusing for him.

He had to spy on the Death Eaters while maintaining his cover and not arousing suspicion, yet at the same time he had to work in the Auror Department and pretend not to be a part of any independent investigation, and also not arouse suspicion. It was maddening.

A party, therefore, filled with Ministry officials and Death Eater affiliates alike, was the most mind-boggling problem for him to wrap his head around, and a seemingly impossible line to tread.

Caradoc stood as far away from any others as he possibly could and tried his best to look inconspicuous, a task made somewhat difficult by his Hippogriff costume. It was quite a convincing one, with the hind legs of a horse stretching out behind him and eagle feathers covering his front. Its very life-like head had its beak stretched wide open, where his face, blinking and sweating in the costume, popped out anxiously.

The art gallery was packed full of important rich people, ambitious lower-end Ministy workers, and those like Caradoc himself who had turned up simply out of necessity than desire. There was, of course, the catering staff as well. Caradoc was quick to include them, as they were the only people at this party he had talked to so far.

An orchestra dressed in matching Ogre costumes played some Mozart number, not far from where Caradoc was dawdling. He made eye contact with one of the violinists and winked, and she spared him a shy smile before looking back at the conductor.

Caradoc watched her play, grinning to himself and enjoying the music.

"Sociable as always, I see, Caradoc."

His smile faded a little and he turned, his hind legs sliding on the ground behind him, to see Eugenia Jenkins, Minister for Magic, standing before him and looking at him with a mixture of amusement and exasperation.

"I don't want to be here," he scowled.

"Then why come?"

"I have to show face, don't I?"

"You're barely showing any face at all," she laughed. "Although it is a great costume."

He looked her up and down. "Where's your costume?"

"This _is_ my costume." She gestured towards her fluorescent trainers, tight, formfitting jeans, and white cotton blouse, together with a checkered shirt tied around her waist. "I'm a Muggle."

"I'm sorry?"

"It's a joke," she explained. "Growing up, before I found out about magic and that I'm a witch, my friends and I would always dress up as witches and wizards for Halloween. So now I'm dressing as a Muggle! And it certainly helps that it's garnered the disapproval of almost every old man in this room. Look behind me, are they still glaring at me?"

Caradoc peeked over her shoulder. "Yes. Although it's more of the whole room, really. I don't think bigotry is just limited to old men."

"Yes, it's the young men, too."

He gave her a look.

"Alright, alright," she snorted. "_Anyone_ can be an awful person."

"Thank you."

"Although in my experience, it's been mostly-"

"I presume you came over here for a reason," he interrupted. "Not that I don't enjoy your company, but you really do have everyone glaring this way, and I'm trying to _not_ be noticed over here."

She nodded, and her expression quickly sobered. "It's about the murder of Bronagh Douglass and his family."

"I heard," he said sympathetically, glancing around to make sure no one was close enough to hear them. "I'm really sorry, Eugenia. I know you-"

"Listen," she said impatiently, "someone was in my office that day. I don't know who, but they found Bronagh's file. That's how they knew where to find him."

Caradoc stared at her, his eyes widening. "Blithe," he whispered.

"That's what I think, too."

"Quick," he took her by the wrist and pulled her even further away from the crowd, if only by a few steps, "tell me everything you remember, everyone you met that day. This could be our only chance to uncover who he is."

"I think I already know," she said, leaning in and speaking even more quietly. "Anton mentioned to me that the two of you suspect Morgan Bulstrode to be the one you're looking for."

He nodded slowly. "You think Bulstrode was in your… ?"

"I do. But I don't know how to prove it."

"Your memory."

"What?"

"Give me your memory of that day," he said hurriedly, summoning a thin glass vial into his hand. "I'll comb through every moment."

"Right," she said unsurely, bringing her wand to her temple. She closed her eyes tight and didn't move for a few moments. Then she drew her wand away and with it came a thin, silvery string of thought. Caradoc held up the vial and she let the memory fall and coil up inside it. "You think you'll find proof it's him?"

"Maybe," he said, pocketing the vial. "Maybe I'll find proof that it's someone else entirely. But Bulstrode makes the most sense."

She nodded. "Anton mentioned the two of you think Blithe is staring us all in the face. If it's going to be anyone, it's Morgan Bulstrode."

"I have to agree with you on that," he said, looking grim. "Now bugger off, please. I don't want word getting back to Rodolphus that I consort with Mudblood filth like yourself."

Eugenia glared and he winked. She shook her head before striding off, the disapproving stares of the rest of the crowd going with her.

Finally alone again, Caradoc returned his attention to the orchestra. They were on the finishing note of an elegant piece, and when the song ended the crowd looked away from their conversations and broke into applause. The conductor wiped his forehead with a cloth and gestured to the orchestra, and they all relaxed and put their instruments down. The conductor himself strode off to drinks table. They were clearly taking a break.

Grinning to himself, Caradoc started making his way over to the orchestra, his eye on the girl he'd looked at earlier. As he walked, he passed Emmett Fawley, Head of the Auror Department and Caradoc's boss. They smiled at each other politely and Caradoc walked on. Surely that was more than enough mingling for Caradoc to say he had shown face at the party. He noticed a dark skinned man in a shiny purple tuxedo standing near Fawley, and something about the man struck Caradoc as incredibly familiar. Where had he seen him before? The aviator sunglasses tucked into his jacket pocket brought something forth to the edge of Caradoc's memory, but he couldn't quite grasp it. He shook his head, knowing it would likely bug him until he remembered.

The girl looked up as he approached her and she smiled at him again, tucking a stray hair behind her ear.

Caradoc was finally glad he'd come to the party. Now he felt like getting into the Halloween spirit.

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While the rest of the school was getting into the Halloween spirit, Lily sat on her bed and watched Marlene and Alice get into their costumes.

"I reckon I'll find a guy tonight," Alice declared.

Marlene gaped at her. "You just got out of a relationship!"

"So?"

"That would be very uncharacteristic of you," Lily told her with a shrug.

"Don't you start, Lily. If I hear one more word about needing to respect ourselves more…"

"Are you sure you don't want to come, Lily?" Marlene asked. "I'm sure we could rustle up a costume of some sort, although it would likely involve a lot of skin showing."  
Lily snorted and stood. "I think I'll be fine. I reckon I'll go for a wander about the castle now, actually. Don't fancy sticking around here by myself once you two are gone."

"Okay," said Marlene. "Oh, Lily, be careful on your way out. There's a stick in the mud lying around here somewhere and I'd hate for you to-"

"Oh, shut up," she muttered, setting off from the dorm and shaking her head.

As she walked past the costumed and excited strings of Gryffindors in the Common Room, it occurred to her that she didn't really know what she planned to do with herself for the night. Wander about the castle? What does that even mean?

It was only as she strolled through the corridors with more conviction than she really should have had that she realized where she was going. She'd probably known since the moment he had said it that morning that she would end up here.

Lily was going to detention.

She stood at the door to where she _knew_ he would be. How many of his detentions had she overseen? She couldn't possibly put a number on it anymore.

She opened the door and walked in. He was sitting at the back of the room, looking completely bored, and he jerked his head towards her when the door opened.

Without meeting his gaze, she strode to the front of the room as though about to teach a class, and then turned and surveyed James Potter with a hand on her hip and a raised eyebrow.

"Alright, Evans?" he asked with a lazy grin.

"Have you finished writing your lines?"

He wrinkled his nose at her. "Well, no. As far as I knew, no one was coming here to check up on me. McGonagall just left me here and told me she'd know if I left early. I sort of figured I could get away with not writing the lines."

Lily wanted to giggle at the unsure glance he gave her, but instead she fixed him with a stern glance of her own. "Were you trying to cheat the justice system, Potter?"

"Well… yeah. I was."

She nodded. "Sounds about right." With a flick of her wand, his quill stood up off his desk on its own accord and started scribbling away on the parchment in front of him.

He stared. "You don't even know what I'm supposed to be writing."

"Read it," she said with a smug grin.

He looked closer at the parchment and frowned. "I am a prat."

"Yes, you are, Potter."

He looked back up at her, unimpressed. "Really, Evans?"

"Yep."

"This is what we're doing now?"

"Don't you dare start having standards for good jokes, Potter. You'll find yourself below them more often than your ego can bear."

"My ego can bear a whole lot, thank you very much."

"Don't I know it," she said with a roll of her eyes.

He grinned and leaned back in his chair. "So to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"You know," she said, gesturing vaguely and propping herself up on top of a desk. "I was in the neighbourhood and I thought I'd pop in."

"Very specific neighbourhood to be in at this time of night," he said with a raised eyebrow.

She folded her arms and regarded him with an annoyed expression. "Potter, if you make me admit that I came here to see you, I'll be very cross."

Hearing her words brought a light into his eyes that made Lily want to grin like an idiot. "We're friends again, are we not, Evans? You can admit when you want to see me."

"About that," said Lily, looking thoughtful, "we _are_ friends. But not like any friends I've ever known of."

"What do you mean?" he asked, with the air of someone who was feigning innocence.

"Well," she hesitated as she tried to describe the thought, "we don't know a whole lot about each other outside of fighting. Every other time we've been friends, we've really just made jokes and small talk."

"Until we fight about something and promptly stop being friends," he mused.

"Yeah. Hey, tell me an embarrassing story, Potter."

"About myself?"

"No, about Peter."

"Oh, where to begin? This morning-"

"About yourself, Potter," she said impatiently.

"Oh." He was quiet for a moment. "I can't think of any story in particular."

"Nonsense, there must be something."

He scratched his head and looked like he was thinking hard. "I don't know. The first time I kissed a girl?"

Lily raised her eyebrows and found her smile growing wide again. "What happened?"

"She attacked me," he said with a grumpy expression, as though he was recalling bad memories. "She was a muggle girl from the village and my mum had taken me with her to meet the girl's mum. Must've been about five or six. She tackled me and planted one right on my mouth."

Laughing, she looked at him with confusion. "What's so embarrassed about that?"

"She overpowered me, Evans," he said crossly. "It wasn't cool."

"I just find it funny that it was the girl being pushy. She must be what made you the overbearing and presumptuous sod you are now."

"Go out with me, Evans," he said lazily.

"Not a chance," she said without skipping a beat. "And didn't you just get out of a relationship?"

"Alice and I have an understanding, Evans. You wouldn't get it."

She pursed her lips and smothered a sudden rising feeling of annoyance. "Mhm."

"So," he said quickly, before she could think much further, "how was your first kiss?"

She had to grant him, he was an expert by now in avoiding a row with her. His ability to read her so well swiftly made her feel light again, and she accepted the diversion. "I was about ten. A boy called Thomas. He was the smartest boy in the class."

"Smarter than you?"

"Smartest _boy_, Potter. I don't know if I was smarter."

"You probably were," he said nonchalantly.

She smiled at him, noticing faintly how it made her happy to hear him talk her up in a genuine way. "Maybe."

"And he sounds like a prick, anyway."

"He was a gentleman," she said with a shake of her head, looking past him as she recalled the time.

"I could probably find him, you know."

"Oh, shut it, Potter. It was at the school dance. He kissed me while we danced to The Twist."

James pretended to throw up over his desk.

"Next question," she decided. "Let's go to the future. What do you reckon you'll do after Hogwarts?"

He grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck. "Maybe professional Quidditch. McGonagall reckons I have a shot. She also recommended being an Auror, but I don't know about that. I've seen a bit of it from my dad. Not sure if it's for me."

"Why's that?"

"Paperwork and meetings," he said flatly. "Just let me hex a few people, for Merlin's sake. Where's _that_ job?"

"You could be a wand for hire," she snorted.

"Yeah," he said with a roll of his eyes. "Or a professional pranker."

She laughed at that. If pranking was an industry, he would be right at the top. "You could always look into Zonko's."

He hummed. "My mum would be _so_ proud." She laughed again and he looked at her. "What about you? Any ideas?"

"Healer, Auror, maybe I'll get into Potions in some way. I'm really not one-hundred-percent on anything, either." She blew a strand of hair out of her face. "I could even be a teacher."

He nodded animatedly. "_Right_? I have to tell you, Evans, I've really been enjoying this tutoring business. Seeing someone learn as I teach them gives me this, this…"

"Rush."

"Yes!"

She nodded. "I tutor some Second Years. I fully get what you mean. By the way, you were doing a really good job this morning."

"Thanks," he said, smiling modestly.

Modestly? That was new.

"You know, Potter, you really have changed a lot this year."

It was like her words were magic. Hearing her say that filled his face with a mixture of pride and pleasure, and he beamed at her. "Thank you for saying that, Evans. Really. It means a lot from you."

She wasn't sure what else to say. "I'm proud of you, Potter."

He nodded again, still smiling, and looked out the window. She followed his gaze and looked upon the star-filled sky, twinkling and winking at them like it was spectating their conversation, acknowledging their progress.

"So," she said, snapping her gaze back to him abruptly, "what's your favorite color?"


	14. Precious Things

There were people who hated Christmas and there were people who loved it, in much the same ratio as there were people who never put a Christmas tree up and people who put their tree up the morning of November first.

Lily, however, was more of a mid-October kind of girl. She'd kept it to herself back then, singing _Have a Holly Jolly Christmas_ only in her head as she skipped through the corridors, but now that it was November she really couldn't hold herself back any longer.

"Stop singing," Marlene groaned, her voice muffled by her pillow.

"I'm sorry, Mar, but that's really not an option anymore. After all, 'tis the season, isn't it?"

Her dorm-mates all let out choruses of incoherent, mumbled frustration.

"We're already a _day_ into November, guys. If you can't handle Christmas now, I don't know how you're going to get through the next few months."

"Lily," said Harriet, a friendly girl who tended to hang out more with her Hufflepuff friends than her dorm-mates, "it's not Christmas that we can't handle. It's the singing at eight in the morning."

"On a Saturday," mumbled Nancy, Harriet's only Gryffindor friend, like it was some sort of groggy war-cry.

The other girls all cheered their agreement through half-closed mouths and slackened jaws.

Lily surveyed the lot of them with her hands on her hips. "If that's how you want it, then fine. But you won't get any chestnuts roasting on an open fire from _me_ when you finally get into the spirit of things."

"What does that even _mean_?" one of them, Alice perhaps, called out exasperatedly.

Lily huffed and stormed out, leaving them to their misery. "Ebenezer Scrooges," she said with a slight pout.

No one ever understood her Christmas references. Granted, most of them were from Muggle books and songs and traditions, but that was no excuse for her high spirits to go unmet. Leaving the Common Room, Lily pondered who would possibly be around to match her Christmas cheer. The answer came to her quickly: Hagrid. Every Christmas, Hagrid was always the first person to get into the festive spirit, and the only person who ever seemed to give Lily a run for her money.

As though she was taken back to First Year, or transported back to the Evans household as a five-year-old, Lily grinned to herself and ran down the corridors and stairs on her way to Hagrid's hut like there were presents there waiting for her. She hurried over the grounds, sliding over mud and wet, frosty grass, locking her eyes onto the portly little hut near the forest, a thin billow of smoke rising from its chimney, signalling to her, as though there were a little squeaky voice there saying, "Here I am!"

When she reached it, she skidded to a stop by the door and leaned to the side to peek through the window. Her eyes widened in shock. James Potter stood beside Hagrid, laughing while he talked, and the two hoisted a tree the size of Hagrid himself between them and prepared to set it upright in a corner of the room. Hagrid had a massive, woolly Christmas hat on and James was wearing a red and gold cardigan with broomsticks and snowmen knitted on in lined patterns.

Through disbelief, a smile slowly captured Lily's face and she hurried to the door, knocked.

After a few seconds it swung open revealing James and his polite smile, which quickly turned to surprise, which quickly turned into a wide, lopsided grin. "Evans!"

"Merry Christmas, Potter," she said, flashing her somewhat goofy smile and quirking an eyebrow.

"Merry Christmas," he responded, his eyes dancing like there was a joke he wasn't going to tell her.

"Merry Christmas," roared Hagrid from beside the tree.

There was no-one around to say, "It's only the first of November!", or simply, "Shut it!", so Lily stepped in and very quickly joined them as they set about to decorate the tree.

"Good to have yeh, Lily," said Hagrid, patting her shoulder and leaning down to offer a steaming mug of hot cocoa. Lily had had Hagrid's cocoa before and it was surprisingly good, if a little on the strong side. "Always put m' tree up at the start of November. Sure was surprised to see young James here come strolling down to join me, not even twen'y minutes ago!"

James winked at her.

"And now here yeh are, too!"

"Here I am," she said with a nod, smiling warmly.

Hagrid bustled about in a small cupboard by his bed and returned to them with a dusty little wooden gramophone. "Got this from Diagon Alley not too long ago, just for Christmas. They said it should still work at Hogwarts, but I'm not sure how."

Lily laughed as he set it down on the table and tilted his head at it, squinting. "Here, Hagrid, I'll show you. Do you have any records?"

"Sure do." He held out a black disc, looking quite proud of himself. "That's what this is, then? A record?"

"Yep!" She slid it onto the gramophone. "It's called vinyl. Do you know what song that is?"

"Wizarding Christmas Classics Compilation," he said with a beam, enunciating each word carefully as though it were a tongue twister. "By a famous witch who went to this very school not too long ago, Celestina-"

"Warbeck," said James, grimacing slightly. "She's great." He didn't sound too enthusiastic.

"Oh, I'd _love_ to hear her, Hagrid." Lily flashed James a wicked grin before smiling back at Hagrid. James closed his eyes and threw his head back.

"Absolutely," thundered Hagrid, his high spirits fuelled by Lily's request. "Now how do I…?"

"Here." She slid the record on, it started spinning, and a jazzy tune with horns and bells played out, before a rich, if quite high-pitched voice filled Hagrid's cabin.

_You charmed my heart and transfigured my soul-_

"So good," said James loudly, his voice almost cracking.

_You made me so naughty, I got a stocking full of coal._

Lily covered her mouth to stifle a giggle. Hagrid's eyes were closed and he was singing along.

_So before this Christmas comes, my dear,_

_I'll need a defence against your dark arts._

James banged his head against a wall and breathed heavily.

"I never knew you were such a big Christmas fan, Potter," she said, walking over to him and smirking.

"Oh, yes." He nodded and smiled weakly. "I just can't get enough."

"Why are you here?" she said under her breath. "I remember last Christmas you jinxed a Second Year for singing _God Rest Ye Merry Hippogriff_ too early."

He blinked at her with what he must have thought was an innocent look on his face. "It's never too late to catch up on some holiday cheer, is it?"

She narrowed her eyes. "That's true."

He beamed. "Then that's what I'm doing."

"The both of yeh will love this next song," Hagrid said loudly, barely looking at them. "It's called_ I Want to be Yer House-Elf for Christmas_."

"Oh, Evans!" James widened his eyes and grabbed her hands. "_I Want to be Your House-Elf for Christmas_? That's my favorite song!"

"Potter, do not change the subj_eeeeect_-"

He spun her out and the room rushed past her before their linked hands went taut, and then he reeled her back in and recaptured her other hand, swaying her with him and grinning.

"That's the spirit," roared Hagrid, clapping his hands.

"You know," she said, glaring, "I'm always surprised at how good a dancer you are."

"And I'm just as surprised that you've stopped slapping me now when I try to dance with you."

She snorted, losing the glare. "You've gotten much better at asking me to dance, I suppose."

"That's funny, considering I never ask."

"Yes, but _these days_ when you grab me and start spinning me about the place you haven't just come back from jinxing some First Years."

"That you know of."

"That I know of," she nodded.

"Put more hips into it," called Hagrid, cupping his hands around his mouth.

"Why are you here, Potter?"

He pulled her close to him, their arms outstretched on either side and their chests grazing. "Your eyes are so pretty."

Her nose almost touched his. "That is not an answer to my question."

"All questions pale in the light of your radiance."

She giggled. "_What?_"

"You're pretty," he said shortly, before suddenly spinning her back out again.

"Potter!"

He kept her a little further away and they twirled on one spot, James grinning the whole time. "Your face is red."

"I'm angry."

"Or you're simply so incredibly charmed by my wiles."

"Your _wiles_ are about to get you slapped, Potter."

"On that note," he said abruptly, just as the song reached its end, "we'll wrap this up. I need to get back to the castle, anyway."

"What for?"

He ignored her and turned to Hagrid, who was tapping the gramophone with a pink umbrella, changing songs with each tap and listening for a few seconds before changing the song again.

"By the way, Hagrid," James said, speaking casually, "there's a show in Gloucestershire tonight. With magical creatures."

Hagrid looked over. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Apparently, there's going to be a _dragon_."

Hagrid's eyes widened, but he didn't say anything.

"I managed to come by a ticket, from a friend of a friend, but I can't make it - I have a _lot_ of studying to do."

Lily put a hand on her hip, eyes narrowed. James Potter, studying on a Saturday night?

"I can go," said Hagrid immediately. Then his face clouded a little. "It's just…"

"If you can't go, that's fine-"

"No, no, I can go. I'd planned to, er, well I had other plans tonight. But I suppose if there's a _dragon_…"

"Brilliant!" James had already pulled a small ticket from his pocket and he handed it to Hagrid. "Thank you, Hagrid. Really."

"I should be the one to thank yeh, James," Hagrid said, waving him off with his eyes crinkling as he beamed. "A _dragon_…"

James patted his shoulder before turning for the door. He glanced back at Lily briefly before he left. "Will I be seeing you in Hogsmeade, Ms Evans?"

She rolled her eyes. "Unfortunately."

He gave her his lopsided grin again and bowed. "Splendid."

She closed the door on his face.

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Hagrid's plans, James knew, had been to go to the Forbidden Forest that night to visit Aragog, a terrifying acromantula that James, Sirius, and Peter had come across on many a trip to the forest. Over the years, Remus had eaten a fair few acromantula in his werewolf form, which was disgusting and horrifying to think about. The morning after each of those times, Remus was bedridden and spewing into a bucket with great vigor.

Tonight was a full moon. By chance, Peter had found pig meat, notoriously similar in taste to human flesh, in a heap behind Hagrid's cabin. They coupled this discovery with two things: firstly, they knew Hagrid had a close relationship with Aragog, which they learned while being threatened by the very spider in their First Year. Secondly, Sirius had been given detention by McGonnagal over a matter of breaking curfew, initially scheduled for Saturday night to tend to Hogwarts' lawns with Hagrid and postponed to Sunday because Hagrid was reportedly 'busy'; Sirius himself had cornered Hagrid to ask about his plans, and the groundskeeper had looked towards the forest suspiciously before evading the question.

All of which led to the boys being worried. Remus attacking Hagrid in his werewolf form could only lead to bad things. Who would even win that fight? The four-year-old in James almost wanted to let it all unfold just for the excitement. The bigger part of him knew that was a terrible idea, thankfully.

"What do _you_ possibly need to think so hard about?" asked Lily, sitting next to him in a booth in The Three Broomsticks, Hogsmeade. Sirius and Marlene sat opposite, chatting away like a pair of gossiping aunties. Or uncles. James had met some terribly nosy uncles, and they could be just as bad.

"I'm thinking of all sorts of clever and fascinating things, Evans. Foremost of which is how dashing I look in a cardigan." And he did. It was a wooly cardigan with snowmen and broomsticks on it, and dashing was just the word for it.

"It surprises me very little that the most fascinating thought in your head is how good you look, Potter."

"You think I look good?"

"I- That's not what I meant." She frowned, colored a little, folded her arms.

James grinned. Oh, Merlin, how he had fallen for this girl. He should have seen it coming, that first time he'd asked her out, years ago, when she'd gaped at him, quickly grew angry, harrumphed, and stalked off with a flick of her hair. He should have known from that moment that what he was feeling then would only deepen, widen, grow stronger, more unwavering, more unshakeable and decidedly pathetic. He reckoned it was sort of like when his cousin, Poppy, a determined little toddler with the fierce attitude that his family excelled in cultivating, had clamped onto his leg during a family gathering one summer break, refusing to let go, and he'd had to walk around the house with that little scamp stuck to his leg, forcing him to waddle and limp while she was stuck to him. Only now it was much more like James had a fully-grown mountain troll clinging on. That little comparison made less sense the more he thought about it, so he changed tact.

He had come into his Sixth Year determined to get over her. Or, at the very least, be less pitifully poor at talking to her. He had succeeded at this, for a time, before inevitably getting on her bad side again… for a time… _again_. And now he was back on her good side. It was a pattern, a little dance they had been stuck in for years now, and he figured it was time to break it. James' time dating Alice Prewett had been illuminating among other things, namely fun, enriching, and, admittedly, a tad weird. He felt he was a better person now. A person more deserving of this fantastic girl sitting next to him.

"What are you looking at?" She twirled a few strands of glowing red hair between her fingers absent-mindedly.

Who was he kidding? He still didn't deserve her. But at least knew better now. Enough to know that he should still _try._ He may never be good enough for her, but if he didn't at least try to be, how could he ever hope to hold her in his arms? _Really_ hold her, not just under the pretence of a dance?

"You," he said, his lips curved upwards slightly. "I'm looking at you."

"Well stop. You're putting me off my butterbeer."

Obligingly, he smiled to himself and turned his attention to Sirius and Marlene. They were cackling away about something, nudging each other and guffawing in turn. "What's the joke?"

"Nothing," they said at the same time, looking like toddlers caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

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After a week, Lily decided it was high time to decorate the dormitory. She did it every year, collecting and putting up the decorations by herself, and every year the dormitory was surely the most festive in the castle. The other four girls would have to tiptoe and duck and weave here and there, but she knew they appreciated it. Rather than say so out loud, they showed their appreciation with scowls and grunts of frustration when their heads would bump into hanging ornaments.

Hagrid only put Christmas trees up around the caste at the start of December, but she'd helped him finish decorating the tree in his cabin the previous week. The rest of the castle was, unfortunately, devoid of festive cheer. Accordingly, the students were equally drab.

"Morning." Alice dropping down beside her at the Gryffindor table, looking unusually bedraggled.

Lily offered her a plate of toast but she shook her head. "What happened to you, Alice? You look like…"

"Like a miniature Christmas tree hanging over my bed for no conceivable reason fell, in the midst of my sleep, onto my face? Because that's what I feel like. Because that's what happened."

Lily winced. "Oh, Alice, I'm so sorry!"

Her friend waved her off. "Don't worry about it. We'll call it even for me dating James."

Lily paled and shook her head quickly. "There's nothing to get even for. I didn't care. Was I annoyed? Yes. Because he's a prat to me and I'm your best mate-"

"Tied with Marlene."

"-but there's nothing to get _even_ for. It didn't inconvenience me or bother me or- or- hey look, the Prophet!"

An owl dropped the paper in front of the two girls and Lily snatched at it, unfolding it quickly. She didn't like thinking about what she felt for James, and she liked talking about it far less. She had long since decided that she liked him as a _person_. He was, without a doubt, great _friend_ material. Was there something else there? Additional feelings within her that she couldn't see? That she _refused_ to see? Well, that's just the thing. If there was, then she certainly refused to see it.

"Oh, Eugenia Jenkins," said Alice, perking up. "She's great."

Lily nodded, surveying the photo of the Minister of Magic, glad for the distraction. "She _is _great. But why does she have a full-page spread?"

It was an article to slander her. Lily gathered that very quickly. Words like 'mad' and 'unfit' and 'selfish' abounded the many paragraphs dedicated to tearing her down, all beneath the headline: Jumbling Jenkins to Pass Bill.

The bill had been in the papers for some months now. If it were to pass it would make the expression of hatred towards Muggles, verbal or otherwise, illegal and punishable. Naturally, arguments and debates struck up not only in Wizarding Britain, but around the whole world. Even at Hogwarts, students would constantly give their input, asked for or not, politically inclined or not. Everyone had a view.

The most prevalent argument was, of course, the necessity of free speech. Countless little columns in the margins of the papers detailed how unfair, how dangerous it was to police the things that people say, to control the way that people think, stressing how ludicrous the bill was, how unfit for office Jenkins was. She was a Muggle-Born. She was acting out of self-interest, putting concerns for Muggles over Wizard-kind. She was something to be despised. They should be able to say what they want, for who was she to stop them? Throughout, they stressed that their concern was solely for the sake of freedom, for how bad of a precedent this would set. Lily wondered how differently they would feel if _they_ were Muggles.

"It's almost passed," Alice said excitedly, scanning the page with Lily. "_Over the next few weeks_, she says!"

Could it happen? Would it really happen? And _should_ it, in the first place?

Alice gazed at Eugenia's picture. "She's such an inspiration."

Lily nodded firmly. "She is. She knew this would make her unpopular, an enemy, and she even knew that there's a moral greyness around the whole thing… and she didn't _care_. She did what needed to be done."

Alice made to respond but Frank Longbottom wandered over, hand in hand with Amelia Fawcett. She closed her mouth and looked away.

Lily didn't have to be particularly bright to have figured out, by then, her friend's feelings for the Head Boy. "You need to talk to him, Alice."

"I will." Alice picked up a slice of toast and gingerly nibbled at the crust. "Soon."

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It was a further week before she did. Alice had found him in an empty classroom on the fourth floor. James had told her where he'd be - it certainly paid to have dated a Marauder.

After she walked into the classroom, saw Frank there shuffling through Prefect schedules, and cleared her throat, the conversation was short. It was short, but yielded results.

"Hi, Al-"

"We're best friends, Frank."

He closed his mouth with a click.

She left the door open and strode further into the room, perching lightly on a desk. "You've had relationships before, I've had… _fleeting_ relationships, but we've always been best friends through it all. Why is this different?"

"Alice…"

"I dated James. So what? You started dating Amelia first."

"I don't know why it's weird, okay?" He seemed frustrated and looked at the ceiling. "You dating _James_ was weird."

"Everyone says that," she said with a small smile.

He shrugged. "Because it's true. I mean, who would have ever thought that you two, of all people, would… Look, it was _odd_, at the very least."

"Well, we're not together anymore."

He met her eyes for the first time. "I'm still with Amelia."

"I know," she said a little too loudly. She lowered her voice. "We should still be friends, Frank."

He nodded slowly. "You're right. Of course you are. I- Hey, are you busy at all in the next few hours?"

Something bubbled inside her, rising to her chest. "No."

"Do you want to study? For Potions or something? I just have to finish these schedules and then I-"

She beamed. "Yes."

So the conversation was short - the study session was much longer.

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Eugenia was close and she knew it. This time tomorrow, the Wizengamot would rule in her favor and her bill would pass. It was a tight margin, too. Many Wizengamot members, the highest, most important, most powerful people inn Wizarding society were against it, against _her_. She owed the inevitable success of this bill in no small part to Albus Dumbledore's endorsement.

Tomorrow would mark the first step, of many, towards a better, more loving future - a change in the narrative that had been impossible for so long.

There was only one thing still bugging her.

_Blithe._

There was someone dangerous in the Ministry who she was enabling. Someone with influence over her, someone who could see her regularly. Someone who could have a whole family killed in good conscience. How could Eugenia move into the new era of peace without first solving this problem?

It was Blithe, she knew it was, who had entered her office last month and brought about the murders of the Douglass family. So just who was he? Clearly it was someone who could just waltz into her office without raising any concerns. _Blithe could be right in front of us_, they had said. What was she missing? Who was she overlooking? She considered the facts. Morgan Bulstrode had been coming from the direction of her office when she'd passed him, just before she'd reached her office. Could it have been him? Could he have done it so quickly? Of course, all he'd have needed to do was convey information to someone on the outside, and that could have happened long before she'd reached her office. Was it really Bulstrode? Who else it could be? If Blithe was in front of her the whole time, then-

In that moment, she realized who it was.

This was bad. This was really bad. She needed to tell them. Calmly, she reached for some parchment and scribbled down a note. She folded it, slipped it into her pocket, then she got up and left her office. She walked casually. It was just a stroll. She thought about the weather, about her weekend plans, about anything else, really. She needed to remain calm. This was really, really bad.

When she reached the Auror Department, she stopped by reception. "Is Caradoc Dearborn in?"

"No, sorry." The blonde haired, frazzled looking lady smiled politely. "Can I take a message for him?"

"No, no. I'll just have a look around."

She walked between desks and cubicles, smiling at all the faces surprised to see the Minister herself walking through their Department. She found Caradoc's desk soon enough and slipped the folded note under a clear folder. Then she turned on her heel and left.

She needed to get out, clear her head. First she would visit her assistant, let him know she was clocking out for the day. Home would be here next stop, she figured. She'd wait there safely while she tried to process what she'd learned. Then, she'd go to Hogwarts.

She didn't see the dark skinned man in a lime green tuxedo stepping out from an adjacent cubicle, didn't see him lifting the folder, didn't see him adjust his aviator sunglasses as he read the note.

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"_I'm sure you know," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling behind half-moon spectacles, "that punching another student is against the rules."_

_Eugenia, Fifth Year and unapologetic, shrugged. "So give me a detention."_

_He shook his head. "That is not why I called you here, Ms Jenkins. You are talented, wickedly clever, and fairly popular, as I understand it-"  
_

_"Not entirely. Not amongst _Pure-bloods_, at any rate."_

_He steepled his fingers and pinned her under his gaze. "You have the means, my dear girl, to become the best of us. It is my belief that you now need guidance to reach your next plateau."  
_

_She grimaced. What did that mean?  
_

_"Let us discuss why you punched Tobias Selwyn today, Ms Jenkins."  
_

_"I'll tell you why," she said heatedly. "He called me a Mud-blood!"_

_He inclined his head. "I imagine this was not the first time that has happened to you."  
_

_"No, but so what? Am I supposed to just accept that? Roll over and be okay with it?"  
_

_"No. Much more than that." Dumbledore leaned forward. "I want you to understand why he said it."_

"_Because he hates people like me."_

"_And why is that?"  
_

_She didn't hesitate. "Because he's an arse."_

_Dumbledore's eyebrows quirked ever so slightly, and his smile widened. "Perhaps. But it goes deeper than that, I'm afraid. He hates you because he _is_ you."  
_

_"Pardon me?"  
_

_"We are all the same, Ms Jenkins. You, me, Mr Selwyn, even Rubeus Hagrid. One and the same. Every person will look into another's eyes and see themselves. That is the curse of mankind. If we look in the eyes of something we deem to be _less_ than us and yet we see ourselves there, where does that leave us?"_

"_With resentment," she said slowly._

"_Precisely. A rich man is reminded how poor he is in the eyes of the beggar. So too was Mr Selwyn scared by what he saw in your eyes today."_

_She pondered this and frowned at the floor. "Professor?"  
_

_He hummed in response._

"_Then if wizards are so much better, why do they have to hide? Why don't they rule the world?"  
_

_He seemed glad she'd asked. "A long time ago, that was the question of the hour. Muggles were afraid of us, and fear incites violence. If war broke out, witches and wizards would have won, of course. We would have seized control of the world. And what would then happen to the Muggles?"_

"_They'd be nothing," she said quietly._

"_Or close to that. So, it took strength and an extraordinary amount of self-sacrifice, and was not easy to accomplish, but overnight we vanished into the darkness. Magic ceased to exist, for all intents and purposes. As penalty for having the means to do the right thing, mankind's truly good nature _forced_ us to do the right thing."_

"_So… because we have strength, we have to be strong?"_

_He inclined his head again. "It is not for everyone. Mr Selwyn's hatred is an example of the burden of a good deed."  
_

_It was a lot for her to wrap her head around. "Professor? Why can't doing the right thing just be easy?"_

_The warmth in his smile brought a similar smile to her own lips. "The most precious things tend to be the most difficult to come by, Ms Jenkins. Now, regarding your detention…"_

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Eugenia stepped into her apartment and froze. Lord Voldemort was in her living room, five Death Eaters standing on either side. He smiled at her, a chilling smile that shouldn't have existed. His scarlet eyes had hell inside them.

Slowly, Eugenia resumed her movements, closing the door behind her and taking off her coat. "I don't suppose you're here for tea?"

Voldemort said nothing, and the masked figures by his side stayed silent too.

"Just me, then? That's fine. Won't be a second, love."

Her kitchen was part of the living room, nothing separated the two and they could see all her movements clearly. She was no threat, evidently, or she'd have been cursed already. She poured water, already boiling, from a charmed teapot, and stirred two cubes of sugar in before removing the teabag.

"Little bit of milk," she said to them almost apologetically. She poured three drops and the tea lightened in shade a great deal. Stirring it, she walked into the living room and sat on an armchair primly. "Now, to business. I take it you're not here to turn yourself in?"

Finally, he spoke. "You make jokes." His voice was almost like a hiss, low and surprisingly smooth. "In the face of death, you jest. Do you not take me seriously, Eugenia Jenkins?"

She took a sip of her tea. "I take you very seriously, believe me. May I ask, by the way, how you know where I live?" Just as she said it, she nodded. "Ah. _Blithe_. That conniving bastard really had me fooled, you know."

"You've discovered his identity," Voldemort said. "So you must die."

"Must I?"

"You seek to save Muggles. You seek to change our laws. It is fitting that you will die by my hand."

She had pins and needles all over her body, but that was to be expected. She didn't let it show on her face. "You won't win, Voldemort." The Death Eaters hissed, but he didn't let any emotion cross his face. "You're taking the easy route. It's so simple hate, so much more complex to rise above." Her tongue felt heavy. Her words almost slurred.

"I tire of this conversation," he said dryly. "I will kill you tonight, Eugenia Jenkins. But first I will hear you scream."

She laughed. Her head pounded, and suddenly she couldn't see anymore. "You keep saying that. But you won't kill me. You won't even torture me."

"Is that right?"

"It is." She waited, as long as she dared wait before she embraced the cold. "Because I'm already dead."

The mug fell from her numb fingers. By the time it smashed on the floor, spilling tea with no drops of milk and three drops of a rare, silky white concoction she'd brewed herself long ago, she was already dead.


	15. The Art of Liking

"You ever feel like life is just making fun of you sometimes?" Frank threw the Quaffle to James.

James caught it deftly and raised an eyebrow. The lake was glistening behind them, its surface starting to freeze over with the cold. The giant squid was nowhere to be seen. Winter had snuck upon them like a mugger onto a rich man, and it looked prepared to beat them senseless. "Life could never make fun of me, I'm much too clever. Life and I sometimes like to point and laugh at others, though. Why? What's got you so blue?"

Frank shrugged. "Nothing."

James snorted and threw the Quaffle back. "Clearly there's something, so get on with it. Lay it on me, Longbottom."

Frank sighed and made to throw the Quaffle.

"And stop being so dramatic about it. It looks terrible on you."

The Head boy glared, threw the Quaffle a little harder. "It's Alice." James caught the Quaffle and hesitated.

"Ah."

"There! That right there! What's that reaction about?"

He rubbed his neck. "I'm starting to think I'm not the right person for this conversation."

"Well _she_ won't give me a straight answer and I'll be damned if you don't either."

"Look, Frank, you two are weird. You've been best friends for six years - how do you not hook up at _any_ point between then and now? It's weird! I don't know what to make of the whole thing."

"Then tell me what Alice makes of it."

James tossed the Quaffle into the air, grimacing as he settled on his words and caught it. "I told her that you like her."

"You _what_?"

"In my defence, it was glaringly obvious. The giant squid could have told her that."

"But why would _you_ tell her?"

He tossed the Quaffle into the air again, caught it and frowned. "You'd just gotten with Amelia, after telling me that you've ostensibly gotten over Alice. Alice was hurt and confused and my girlfriend. Why would I not tell her?"

"She was hurt?" Frank said with a frown on his face, not seeming to have heard the rest of what James said. "Why would she be hurt by me being with Amelia?"

"Why do you think, genius?"

"She didn't like Amelia? She was worried I wouldn't make time for her?" Frank gestured for James to pass the Quaffle. "What is it?"

James shook his head and lobbed the Quaffle to him. "You certainly can be quite thick, you know."

"Hey," said Frank. He watched James turn and start to walk back to the castle, his frown deepening. "Come on, James. Help me out."

"I'm not going to spell it out for you, Longbottom. And I certainly don't want to get even more involved in this whole affair." He paused then, and almost as an afterthought he turned and grinned. "I do think I've said enough for you to know what to do from here, though. She's an excellent kisser, by the way."

And with that he left Frank standing in the chill morning air, the deepest, purest of glares following the Quidditch Captain's retreating figure. He kicked stones and muttered dark things as he walked back up to the castle himself.

James had been frustratingly useless, all things considered. Frank had no answers and a plethora of new questions. After liking Alice for so long, having been painfully trapped in the garments of a friend for so long, fleetingly thinking he could get over her and meeting someone new, only for Alice to turn around and start being… well, _weird_. Frank certainly felt like life was making fun of him.

And then there was Amelia. Frank reached the castle and trudged his way through quiet corridors, thinking of his girlfriend. She was great. That much he was sure of. She was nice, she looked nice, and she made her feelings for Frank very, very clear. What did Alice offer in comparison? Well, she was beautiful, that was for sure. She was more temperate and more lovely than a summer's day, but decidedly less sweaty. Her looks weren't even the start of it, though. She was far from soft-spoken, but there was always a gentleness, a softness to her that calmed him and filled him with warmth. A whispering, sweet smelling breeze by the ocean, or the soothingness of honey to a sore throat. All of this remained after her peculiar relationship with James Potter, of course, but there was more there now. A spice in the scent, new icing on the cake. If she wasn't quite soft-spoken before, she definitely wasn't now. Alice had a different flair in her eyes, a jaunting tilt in her smile, and she was no longer a stranger to speaking her mind with steel in her voice, irrespective of how it might be received.

If he hadn't loved her before, which he had, then he unequivocally did now, which he did. But Amelia…

He had a bird in the hand, but there could be two in the bush. Merlin, if Alice now returned his feelings there could be a whole _flock_ in the bush. But did she? Frank saw no proof that she did. Six years spent longing for her told him to just take the one bird. Amelia _liked_ him. How great was that? Alice's face crossed his mind and he knew that it could certainly be greater.

"Chin up, Longbottom," came a voice from behind him. He turned to see Professor Windstrum strolling up to him. "You can't possibly be this deep in thought before breakfast."

Frank rubbed his neck and grinned at his favorite teacher. "You ever feel like life is just making fun of you, sir?"

Windstrum didn't even pause as he walked past him. "Life itself is a joke, Frank. Learn to laugh at it."

He stared after the teacher, who paused near the end of the corridor and looked back. "Dumbledore wants to see you later today, by the way. After classes. Six'o'clock, sharp."

Frank raised an eyebrow. "What for?"

Windstrum smiled, an expression rarely ever paired with the word he said next: "Politics."

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The owls swarmed in at breakfast, carrying Daily Prophets with headlines that drew many a gasp from the sea of students at their House tables.

"Jenkins _resigns_?" Lily read aloud, her eyes wide.

"Let's see that." Marlene grabbed the paper and quickly scanned the front page. "_...resigned for her health… has come down with a serious illness… this marks the only good decision the Minister has made in her entire career…_"

"Oh, please," Lily scoffed. "Does it specify what kind of illness it is?"

"Nope."

Sirius, sitting beside Marlene, a sight which was now strangely commonplace, narrowed his eyes at the paper. "This strikes me as suspicious."

From his other side, Remus nodded. "It does bring up some red flags. How did she resign? Did anyone see her in person?"

Marlene double-checked the paper. "No, she sent in an owl with a note."

Collectively, the teens all _ooh_'d and winced.

"Another red flag," said Remus quietly. "Something's up."

James entered the Great Hall then, and made a beeline for where they sat at the Gryffindor table.

Lily called to him when he was close enough. "How was your chat with Frank?"

He shrugged. "Cold. Didn't bring a cloak."

"What was it about?" Marlene asked, tilting her head.

"Broomstick polish," he said shortly, as he stopped idly by Lily's shoulder.

Alice peaked past him towards the Entrance Hall. "Where's Frank now?"

He frowned and glanced behind him. "Not sure, actually. He might still be out there, the utter madman." He turned back and gave Lily a flat stare. "You've forgotten then, haven't you?"

She blinked. "What?"

"You said you'd help me study for potions."

Her eyes widened. "Oh, you were serious?"

"_Yes_." He tapped his foot and crossed his arms. "I'm always serious."

Sirius opened his mouth and Marlene jabbed him. "Ow."

"Right then," Lily said, quickly stuffing that last chunk of toast in her mouth and brushing off her hands. She stood and picked up her bag. "A Prefect always keeps her word."

He beamed. "Splendid." Then he turned on his heel and strode away without any further delay.

"Potter, wait!"

As she hurried after him, she barely noticed the small smiles her friends wore, staring resolutely at their plates like there was a joke between them that Lily couldn't know. _Of course_ James could just study by himself. Obviously he didn't need her help, regardless of whether or not she was top of the class as far as Potions went. He was _James Potter._

But, Lily reasoned, grinning to herself as she caught up with him, as of late, she was hardly one to complain about any of those things.

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Caradoc Dearborn read the headlines and instantly surmised what must have happened. Eugenia Jenkins was dead. Blithe, whoever he was, had made his move.

Why was it, Caradoc thought angrily as he walked towards the Ministry's main entrance, that every time Blithe made his move, someone had to die?

Or maybe she wasn't dead. Maybe he was reading too much into the headline. Eugenia might _actually_ just be taking time off, as uncharacteristic as that was. Caradoc very much doubted this, but there was one way he could make sure.

He suddenly ducked into an alley and flattened his back against the wall, waiting, making sure no one was watching him. When he was satisfied, he closed his eyes and turned on the spot, feeling his body squeeze and twist through space. When he opened his eyes, he was in another dark, musty alley, far from the Ministry, just down the road from Eugenia Jenkins' apartment. He had to see her for himself.

After making sure the coast was clear, he slowly ambled out of the alley and walked as nonchalantly as he could down the street. In the distance, he could see her apartment. Outside, there was a solitary figure facing away from it, standing casually. Or at least attempting to stand casually. Caradoc had personally stood that exact same way many times. The wand hand by the pocket, the eyes alert, the shoulders slumped to give the impression of inattentiveness but the stance wide and ready. The figure was a fighter.

When Caradoc got close enough, he recognized the face of Rabastan Lestrange. And Rabastan Lestrange looked over and met his eyes. Caradoc froze for the briefest of moments before regaining his relaxed demeanor and maintaining his pace, nodding to him.

Rabastan didn't nod back, and his hand moved no further from his pocket. "Dearborn. It is good to finally meet you."

"Likewise." Caradoc's lips were dry. "Did Rodolphus tell you about me?"

"He did." The hand still didn't move any closer or further from that pocket, the pocket which quite clearly housed a wand. Caradoc refused to think about how many lives that wand had taken, people it had tortured. "You've been a good spy so far, Dearborn. You've given us valuable information."

He gave what he hoped was a convincing smile. "Glad to be of service."

"Which raises the question," Rabastan continued, "why, I wonder, have you come to visit _Eugenia Jenkins_ herself, the morning after she resigns oh-so-mysteriously? What reason do you have for being here, Dearborn?"

Caradoc didn't speak. His throat was dry, he knew his voice might crack, and he frankly didn't know what to say.

The hand moved. Caradoc's heart jolted as he watched Rabastan's wand hand inch towards his pocket, towards the outline of that thin twig with which he had made himself so notorious. Caradoc's own hand moved slowly for his own pocket, knowing that he could reach for it just as quickly as Rabastan.

Rabastan gave him a knowing smile, but he hadn't yet seemed to notice Caradoc's fingers grazing the edge of his pocket, so Caradoc had to wonder just how knowing it could be.

Rabastan dove his hand into his pocket suddenly, and Caradoc jerked for his own wand but before he could pull out those nine-and-a-half inches of maple Rabastan pulled his hand back out and stretched it out to Caradoc, open and palm up.

There was a small, silver key lying in his hand. "You want to see the body, don't you?"

Caradoc froze, his heart racing. Did Rabastan really think Caradoc had come here to see a dead body?

"Go on in, then. Take a peek, it's still there. Just a peek though, you hear me?"

Dumbly, Caradoc pulled his hand out of his pocket, empty, and gave a slow nod. He hesitated for a brief moment before he took the key. When he entered the apartment, his movements were stiff and his blood grew colder and colder with each step. He saw the body immediately, and leaned a hand against the wall to brace himself.

Yes, there was no doubt about it now. Eugenia was very dead.

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"Why am I here?" Frank asked, for what felt like the hundredth time. He eyed the marble floors and lavishly decorated walls of the tenth level of the Ministry of Magic and felt acutely out of place. These were the stomping grounds of very, very important people. Nothing visually aided this hypothesis of his, but he could just _feel _it.

"I told you already," said Professor Windstrum from a few paces ahead of him. "As Head Boy, we think it appropriate for you to experience the political-"

"Well that doesn't check out," said Frank, narrowing his eyes at Windstrum's back, "because I don't see Penelope here with us."

Penelope Green was the Head Girl, popular and respected in her own right but with a slight tendency of being overly-studious, keeping herself to herself.

"Well," said Windstrum with a confident smile, "that's because…"

They continued walking, and after a few long seconds of waiting for a finished sentence with none forthcoming, Frank quickened his pace to try to look at Windstrum's face. "Because what?"

"Give me a minute, I'll think of something."

"Were you really hoping I'd just forget you didn't give me an answer?"

"I'll be honest, Frank. Yes."

"Where's Dumbledore? I want Dumbledore," said Frank, fully aware that he was starting to sound like a sulking child.

Unexpectedly, as though he had been summoned, Dumbledore suddenly appeared from behind them, matching their stride at first before quickening his pace even more. "Good evening, Frank."

"Professor," he said with relief. "What's going on? Why are we here?"

They turned a corner and continued along the winding corridor. Dumbledore didn't slow at all as he answered. "I expect you have read today's paper?"

"About the Minister resigning? Yeah, I saw that."

"That's what they call what happened?" Windstrum asked darkly, scowling. "Resigning? It was _murder_."

"Be that as it may, Anton, we still find ourselves without a Minister of Magic. There must alwaysbe a Minister."

"So what's the process for that?" Frank asked.

"Morgan Bulstrode was quite high in Eugenia Jenkin's power structure. Under normal circumstances, we would stand back and allow him to take her place as Minister of Magic. However, considering-"

"Considering he's a conniving, worthless _swine_," spat Windstrum.

"Considering he is suspected of affiliation with Death Eaters," Dumbledore continued calmly, "we cannot allow that to happen. As a member of the Wizengamot, I called for a vote of confidence, and was delighted to find many of my colleagues agreeing with me."

"Of course they agreed with you," said Windstrum. "They're half expecting _you_ to be Minister."

"That still doesn't explain why _I'm_ here," said Frank, looking between the two exasperatedly.

Windstrum gave a half smile. "Dumbledore feels awkward about that. You're a student, Frank. Head Boy, and a Pure-blood to boot. Having you present speaks volumes of youth support, for Dumbledore and whoever he endorses, even if you won't be allowed to say anything at the meeting." Frank turned to Dumbledore, eyebrow raised.

Dumbledore looked back at him now, almost apologetically. "Forgive me, Frank. It is egregiously manipulative of me to use you in such a way, but it must be done."

"You're essentially just here to stand beside us and look pretty," sniggered Windstrum.

Frank glared at him. "And Penelope? She's not here because she's only a Half-blood, is that right?"

Windstrum looked away. Frank turned to look at Dumbledore, who took a long time to answer. When he did, he looked harrowed. "Forgive me, Frank."

Frank wasn't sure what to say to that. Both of the men seemed to draw no shortage of relief when they finally reached their destination. It was a courtroom of sorts, although it struck Frank as more of an auditorium. As grand as it was large, the ceiling stretched impossibly high above them, glistening with diamonds and gems, while wooden stands were arranged all around the room, enough to seat hundreds of people. At present, there were only perhaps thirty others in the room.

Someone hissed to them from along the stands and Frank looked over to see Alastor Moody gesturing wildly. Scars riddled his face and there was a shadow in the man's eyes that told Frank he had _seen_ things, things which Frank could scarcely imagine, would never _want_ to imagine.

"It's about time," growled Moody as they approached.

"Good evening, Alastor," said Dumbledore with a smile, sitting down beside him.

"Look at those faces," Moody said, gesturing very obviously around the room, not caring who noticed. "Spineless, the lot of them. We've sat here this whole time acting like Eugenia came down with the common cold. _She's dead, folks_."

A few people stared. Some coughed and looked away awkwardly.

"Windstrum, Longbottom," Moody greeted, as though he'd just seen them. "Glad to see you both." Frank shook his course hand, making sure his grip was strong enough to leave a good impression.

Moody surveyed Windstrum. "Congratulations on your appointment. Never saw you as the teaching type, if I'm honest. Weren't you a student yourself, not even six years ago?"

"Just over six," said Windstrum, grimacing. "But it certainly doesn't feel like it."

The lot of them settled into their seats just as two more men approached them. The first had short blonde hair and a neatly trimmed beard, his eyes flashing with merriment as he smiled. His friend was dark haired and expressionless.

"Room for two more over here?" called the blonde man. "I get the feeling this is the group one wants to be sitting with."

"Sawyer, good to see you," said Windstrum enthusiastically, standing up to grasp his hand and smiling wide. "And you, Harold."

Harold, the dark haired man, nodded simply and sat, his movements slow and indicative of a quiet sort of power.

"Frank," said Windstrum, gesturing to him to stand, "meet Sawyer Hughes and Harold Minchum. They were a few years above me in Hogwarts, but these days they're quite the important figures. You want to be an Auror after Hogwarts, right? Well, these are the people to know." Sawyer tried to wave him off but Windstrum clapped a hand on Frank's shoulder and dragged him closer. "Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, this one. That's almost as high as it gets these days. And Harold, the delightful old clown over here," he said, jostling Harold's shoulder who, to his credit, didn't even seem to feel it, "is one of the top Aurors in the department."

Frank instantly felt nervous. "Er… hey."

Sawyer grinned at him. "Frank Longbottom, is it? I've heard a lot about you."

"Really?"

"Oh, yes. Dumbledore speaks of you most highly-"

"Sit down, you eejits," snapped Moody from behind them. "We're about to start."

Sniggering, Sawyer sat next to Harold, and Frank sat between him and Windstrum. On the other side of the room a collection of men were talking amongst themselves. Frank recognized a lot of them. Pure-blood fanatics, possibly supporters of Voldemort, but smart enough and rich enough to claim all the top Ministry jobs. Morgan Bulstrode was at the forefront of the group. Frank recognized him from the papers. A stout man with a protruding chin, he didn't bear a striking figure, and the things Frank had heard of him made him want to grab his wand and jinx the hairs off the man's arse.

Further along the stands was the Head of the Auror Department, Emmett Fawley. Frank didn't know much about him aside from the fact that he had taken the department over from James' dad after a botched raid on the Goyle residence. The faces behind him were lined and serious, and none of them familiar.

A last small party gathered in the remaining corner of the stands. Their faces ranged from old to young, as they were comprised of all sorts, including a few well known Wizengamot faces that Frank recognized.

Around the rest of the stands were lone figures with important-looking robes and faces - it was the look in their eyes, Frank reckoned - or people sitting in much smaller groups. Many pairs of eyes in the room would wander over to Dumbledore and linger there, trailing over their little group. Frank felt his own fair share of their scrutiny being thrown his way.

Eventually, Morgan Bulstrode stood up and cleared his throat. If he had expected them all to become silent immediately, the disappointment didn't show on his face when they didn't. People took their time to finish their conversations, almost to the point of being purposeful, dragging their conversations out unnecessarily just to irk the man.

"Now that we are all here," he said in a slightly nasally voice, looking at a few people pointedly, Dumbledore included, "let us begin the meeting. As interim Minister-"

"You're not the interim Minister," said a man at the front of the fourth group of Witches and Wizards of both the young and old. "You're barely even in charge."

"But I am still in charge," said Bulstrode in stride, looking smug that the man at least recognized that much. "Now-"

"That's Jedidiah Hobart," Windstrum whispered to Frank. "He's on the Wizengamot, and very rich."

"And a good man," added Sawyer, glancing for a moment at Jedidiah before looking back at Bulstrode.

"-as you all must surely know by now, Eugenia Jenkins has retired."

Moody growled, low and guttural. Some people looked over with pale faces. Bulstrode, to his credit, didn't show he had noticed.

"It is most regrettable, but it cannot be avoided, I'm afraid. As a result, we find ourselves in need of a leader. I would like to offer my own name for consideration-"

"Of course you would," snorted Jedidiah. "That's not going to happen, Bulstrode."

"_Minister_ Bulstrode-"

"Just Bulstrode, I'm afraid," said Dumbledore clearly. It wasn't loud, but every head turned and not a single other person spoke. Frank had to agree with what Sawyer had said. This was certainly the group one would want to be sitting with. "In Eugenia's most conspicuous absence, it is true that the duty of leadership would ordinarily fall to you without any need for a vote of confidence from the Ministry Heads - provided, of course, that the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot signs off on it. This is outlined in the Wizengamot Codex. And, as Chief Warlock, I am sorry to say that I cannot do so."

Jedidiah nodded firmly and turned to Bulstrode with a small smile. "If you want to be Minister, it must happen here, in this room, through the collective agreement of all those present, Heads and Wizengamot alike."

A wizard behind Bulstrode whispered something in his ear, and Bulstrode looked at Frank and narrowed his eyes. "Who's the boy, Dumbledore? I dare say he won't be speaking here, much less voting?"

Dumbledore gestured to Frank. "This is Frank Longbottom, Head Boy of Hogwarts this year. I find it prudent that he be here for this meeting, though you are correct in assuming that he will not be speaking. I value his opinion greatly, and think it wise to seek counsel with the youth on matters such as these."

People around the room were looking at Frank differently now, intrigued, nodding. In turn, he was sure his very presence would put more weight behind each of Dumbledore's words.

He had never really seen his Headmaster as manipulative before, but now he saw the thin strings of a puppet-master trailing from the man's fingers.

Bulstrode nodded sharply. "Very well. You are right, of course, that my power is only temporary. Our true Minister is not yet decided. I would therefore like to put my name forward, humbly-" Jedidiah snorted, "-for your consideration." He sat back down and folded his hands in his lap.

There were mumbles from around the room, and Bulstrode scrutinized each prominent face in turn. A few people looked to Dumbledore, but he was silent, smiling politely.

"I would also like to put my name forward," said a figure sitting beside Jedidiah, standing up and taking a step forward.

"That's Barty Crouch," Sawyer whispered, nodding at the figure. "An ambitious man, clearly. Quite capable. He works in my department, just under me. I'm not altogether sure I want to see him as the Minister, though."

It seemed the rest of the room was in agreement with Sawyer, as the reception to this was just as lukewarm as Bulstrode's. Barty Crouch sat back down, looking unfazed. There was silence for a good few moments then, each person in the room craning their necks around to see if anyone else would stand.

There was movement and everyone turned to look. Emmett Fawley slowly got to his feet, looked around at all those gathered and spoke. "I, too, will put my name forward. As Head of the Auror Department, I can bring the much needed direction for the war looming before us."

He sat. There were no rumblings this time, no shuffling around. Just silence. This, if anything, was stronger than if there had been raucous cheering. It seemed they'd found the one.

Dumbledore stood suddenly, and the silence grew louder. "A vote, then," he said at last, and people seemed to relax. "Three names to consider. We shall halt proceedings for now, and reconvene in, let us say, five minutes."

The chattering picked up as soon as he sat back down.

"I don't know a lot about him," Moody admitted, looking at Fawley. "He's a private man. Around the office he keeps to himself, and his door is rarely open. He's done a decent job so far, though."

Windstrum nodded. "He's certainly the best option."

"What do you make of this, Sawyer? Harold?" asked Dumbledore.

Sawyer shrugged. "I have little to do with him, even if he does report to me directly. I think he'll do a fine job, though."

"He is better than Crouch," said Harold. His voice was deep, and he didn't look at them as he spoke. "Crouch is an extremist, and a proponent of the use of Unforgivable Curses."

Windstrum nodded. "And Bulstrode is just a tosser."

"Frank?" asked Dumbledore.

Frank wasn't quite sure what to say, and he certainly didn't know what he could add that hadn't already been said. "Crouch and Fawley are both preferable to Bulstrode. Between the two though, Fawley stands out much more clearly."

Dumbledore nodded. "We are all in agreement then." When the five minutes were up, he stood and the room grew quiet again. "A count of hands shall suffice, I think. All in favor of Morgan Bulstrode?" The hands of all those sitting near Bulstrode went up, and a few other lone stragglers around the room. Dumbledore looked around slowly before nodding. "Sixteen." The hands went down. "All in favor of Bartemius Crouch?"

Barty Crouch's hand went up. Two others raised their hands, sitting near Jedidiah, who looked at them and wrinkled his nose.

"Three," said Dumbledore, like it was just as important as Bulstrode's figure. "All those in favor of Emmett Fawley?" Dumbledore himself raised his hand, as did Moody, Windstrum, Sawyer and Harold. Frank remembered he could not vote and sat still, feeling awkward. Around the room, many more hands went up. Frank couldn't help but wonder if those hands would still be up if Dumbledore's wasn't. The amount of authority he commanded almost seemed to compel them to join him. This was the very reason Dumbledore had invited Frank to this meeting, after all. Frank knew that much. Although it wasn't as though Dumbledore needed the boost to his credibility.

Emmet Fawley, sitting poised and relaxed, raised his own hand, and all those sitting near him raised theirs too, along with a small handful of lone figures scattered around the room. "Twenty," said Dumbledore, with an air of finality. "Thus, with a clear majority, and as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, I declare Emmett Fawley to be our-"

"Hold on, Dumbledore," said Bulstrode loudly, looking strangely smug. A few people groaned, and there was some muttering. "You mentioned the Wizengamot Codex earlier. Surely you have not forgotten the conditions upon which one must be voted in?"

Dumbledore frowned at him for a moment before his eyes widened infinitesimally.

Bulstrode's smirk grew. "Ah, so you do remember. If it comes to a vote, the Minister _must_ be voted in with at least a sixty percent majority. Now, unless I am mistaken, twenty votes for Emmett Fawley out of a total of thirty nine people is not sixty percent. Am I correct?" Another wizard whispered something in his ear and his smirk threatened to split his face. "Yes, that _is_ correct. He would need around twenty three votes." The wizard whispered something again and Bulstrode nodded. "Twenty four votes if we are rounding up. Now the Codex doesn't specify which way we must round, up or down, but that hardly matters now, does it? I'm afraid at this stage, Emmett Fawley will not be our next Minister of Magic."

The muttering picked up again, and a few people looked panicked while those around Bulstrode grinned like this had been planned all along.

Jedidiah frowned. "So what happens now?"

Dumbledore's expression was neutral, but Frank picked up on a thinly veiled anger in his tone. "For now, nothing changes. We will reconvene at a later date, and will continue to do so until our… majority is found."

"And until then?"

"Until then," Dumbledore hesitated, as though the words pained him, "Morgan Bulstrode shall remain…"

"In charge," Bulstrode finished for him, his face looking oh-so-punchable.

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James was not much of a note-taker in class, especially not as far as Potions was concerned. Slughorn would talk, write something down and probably explain it quite well, but James' quill would remain on his desk and his gaze would continue to wander around the room, completely uninterested in the idea of learning.

Next to him, Sirius was doodling in a notebook. It was a dragon wearing dress robes and a pointy hat, and rather than draw it cartoonishly Sirius had instead opted for a fearsome, hyper-realistic dragon in dress robes and a hat, which James found to be an odd artistic choice.

"James, m'boy."

James looked up, startled. Somehow, Slughorn was right in front of him. "Hullo, Professor."

Slughorn glanced briefly at Sirius and hesitated. "Working hard, Black?"

Sirius didn't even look up. "Yes."

Slughorn looked back at James and cleared his throat. "James, m'boy," he said again.

"Professor," James said with a little less gusto.

"I've been meaning to speak with you, James. I host these little get-togethers now and again, you might have heard of them-"

"The Slug Club."

Slughorn beamed. "My reputation precedes me it seems."

"No, you just talk about it a lot."

Slughorn didn't seem to have heard. "Now, James, I must have you at my Christmas party this year. It's always a hoot. I bring in some very important people from all walks of life that I'm sure you'd love to meet. You can bring a date along, have some drinks and refreshments before a _very_ stellar dinner. I think you'll quite like it. It's only a few weeks away, you know!"

Red hair entered his vision as Lily leaned forward to join the conversation. "You're joining the Slug Club, Potter?"

He narrowed his eyes. "No."

"Oh my goodness, you're joining the Slug Club."

"I'm not joining the Slug Club!"

Sirius looked up then and gazed at Slughorn thoughtfully. "Why now?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Why are you only asking James now? This year, I mean. Is it because of how squeaky clean his record is now?"

"Shut up," James mumbled.

"How he's become a positive role-model and a well-behaved, thoughtful-"

James shoved him and Sirius shoved him back and James pushed at his face-

"All those things are important," Slughorn said hurriedly, and they paused and glanced at him. "James is certainly much more of a model student this year."

James jerked away from Sirius and glared at his desk, sulking.

"And, between you and me," continued Slughorn, lowering his voice dramatically and leaning closer to James , "I've heard some rumblings amongst the staff about the Head Boy for next year. You might like to know, _your_ name has come up a few times, my boy!"

James snorted and looked at Sirius with a roll of his eyes, who was grinning up at Slughorn like he was mad. "You do know how to tell a good joke, Professor," said Sirius. "I'll grant you that much."

Lily looked pensive and squinted at James' face. "You know, Potter, you wouldn't necessarily make a terrible Head Boy when I think about it."

"Stop thinking about it," James muttered.

"You don't have to believe me, of course," chortled Slughorn as he stood up straight. "But you should come to my party regardless."

James shook his head and tried to look apologetic. "Sorry, Professor. I just don't think I'd enjoy that sort of thing."

"It was a nice try, Professor," said Sirius, still looking far too amused. "But it was never going to work. I can't imagine what it would take to convince James to go to your party and join the _Slug Club_."

"Come to think of it, Potter," said Lily suddenly, meeting James' eyes and smiling that smile that made his stomach flip, "I still don't have a date to the party..."

Sirius' smile slowly faded and he looked back at his doodles. "Nevermind," he muttered.

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Memories were fascinating things to be lost in. They dealt in perception and impression, thought and feeling, allowing for glimpses into matters for which there could be no control.

Caradoc had spent days in his Pensieve. Ever since he'd walked into her living room and seen her cold, pale, wide-eyed body spread eagled on the floor, he hadn't been able to rest. Blithe had done this. And Caradoc's failure to catch Blithe had enabled this.

"Good morning!"

That was a short man that Eugenia had walked past when she reached the Ministry. After the fourth viewing of this memory, Caradoc had taken to calling him Scrawny. It was Eugenia's memory of the day the Douglass family had been murdered. She'd given him the memory at the Ministry Halloween party, and Caradoc cursed himself for not delving into the memory sooner. Maybe then he could have uncovered Blithe, and Eugenia's murder wouldn't be on his hands.

"Good morning," Eugenia said politely, striding onwards.

Could Scrawny be Blithe? It wasn't the first time the thought had entered Caradoc's mind, and he knew it certainly wouldn't be the last.

She reached a reception desk and greeted the receptionist.

"Morning, Patricia," Caradoc said at the same time as Eugenia. He continued with Patricia's higher-pitched response. "Good morning, Eugenia. A bit chilly out, isn't it?"

Eugenia and Caradoc nodded. "Yes, it is quite cold."

He sighed and walked away, leaving the two to finish their conversation. Eugenia would ask for any important notes, Patricia would say no-

"Not unless you count Selwyn asking for another budget rise."

-and the two would laugh. He followed Eugenia on her way to her office. Could Patricia be Blithe? She was more likely than Scrawny, that was for sure. Caradoc doubted Scrawny had the mettle in him to be a murdering psychopath. In all fairness, neither did Patricia. Her eyes were too wide and innocent. Caradoc reckoned that evil people were incapable of opening their eyes very wide. It just didn't seem like the kind of thing they could do.

Eugenia sat at her desk for a few hours. Caradoc spent those hours with her, lounging about on the floor, counting the tiles on the ceiling. He went with her for her lunch break, too. No suspicious characters. A whole lot of Scrawny and Patricia types. Caradoc had names for them all. Stubby and Stuffy and Shorty, Phillip and Phyllis and Phillippe. They all passed, as inconspicuous as the last. Caradoc couldn't move far away from Eugenia. Every time he tried, he found himself right back with her. The only world that existed here was Eugenia's world. It was a strangely intimate thing, to only experience another person's world for days on end. He had gotten to know Eugenia quite well.

It wasn't romantic, mind. Merlin, no. She was more than ten years older than him. Not to mention she was dead.

But still, it was intimate. He knew her mannerisms by heart, the way she'd scratch her head while she wracked her brain about something, the way one side of her lips tilted slightly higher than the other when she smiled. He'd even taken on the exact pace at which she walked into his muscle memory.

All that, and he still had no leads. No clue whatsoever who Blithe was. The end of the day neared, and as usual Caradoc was just as clueless as before. He sat on a bench while Eugenia stepped into Emmett Fawley's office. He'd memorized this conversation too, of course.

"Eugenia," came Fawley's smooth voice. "How can I help?"

Caradoc stood and walked over to stand by the door he'd stood by every other time he'd witnessed this conversation. Eugenia said the same thing as all the other times too. "Good afternoon, Emmett."

Caradoc exhaled as they continued talking. He glanced around what he could see of the room. He hadn't yet had a good look it at, really. It seemed basic enough. A desk, a bookcase, everything neat and tidy and ordered, just as he'd come to expect of the head of his department.

He took a step further into the office and froze.

There was a man there. Standing beside Fawley, incredibly still. He had been obscured by the door this whole time, and Caradoc would have been furious with himself for not entering the office sooner if he wasn't so preoccupied with the man's appearance. He had seen the man before.

Dark skin, a pink tuxedo. Aviator sunglasses.

The man said nothing, as still as a statue. The conversation ended and he and Eugenia walked from the office, past Bulstrode, who Caradoc had been focusing on up until this viewing of the memory, reached Eugenia's own office. Caradoc barely paid attention as she rummaged through a folder and realized someone had been in her office. She Disapparated and he went with her, into a meadow, then into a cottage. He looked at the bodies of the Douglass family, but this time he looked past them. The door had been blasted down. He couldn't be sure, there were plenty of ways to blast down doors, but Caradoc reckoned he recognized the manner in which it seemed to have been blasted.

The memory ended at the same place it always did, and suddenly Caradoc was stumbling away from his Pensieve, collapsing onto his couch.

"I can't believe this."

The portrait of Othello Dearborn hanging on the wall of his flat awoke with a start. "What's the matter, boy?"

Caradoc's eyes trailed over the walls and messy floor of his flat, his mind racing. "I've found a lead, Uncle O. I think I might know who Blithe is."

Othello's usually grumpy and lined features turned up in a smile. "Splendid, boy! Absolutely splendid."

Othello Dearborn had died just the previous year. He had been in a duel with a Death Eater, a most fearsome and epic duel from what Caradoc had heard, and Othello had put up an incredible fight. Then he'd taken a step back and been eaten by a manticore.

"There was a man in Emmett Fawley's office. I've… I've _seen_ him before, Uncle O. A couple times."

"Congratulations, boy," said Othello, nodding.

"The previous time was actually the Halloween party at which Eugenia gave me this memory in the first place! He was with Emmett Fawley _that_ time too, but I hadn't recognized him then. The other time I saw him was… a few months ago."

"I am so happy for you."

"I was on a mission with Anton and the were-wolf boy, Remus."

"Were-wolves," said Othello, tapping his temple with a knowing smile, "Dangerous ones, them."

"No, he's fine. But this man, this _associate_ of Fawley's turned up and killed Cassus Lucio. Lucio was an important informant, he'd given us information on Blithe. Whoever this man is, he _must_ be associated with Blithe."

Othello clasped his hands. "Wonderful."

"And I think he killed the Douglass family, too."

In his mind's eye, Caradoc recalled the night Lucio had been killed. The dark-skinned man had rung the doorbell. He'd blasted the door down, wearing a teal tuxedo that time, thrown a barrage of spells at Caradoc, and then blasted Caradoc himself through a few walls. Caradoc didn't need a Pensieve. He was certain the dark-skinned man's blasting spell was the same one used on the Douglass family's door. The man had killed the Douglass family, and that same day he had met with… Emmett Fawley.

He sat up slowly. "Oh, Merlin."

"What?"

He stood. "I have to go."

"Safe travels, nephew."

"I- I really have to go." Caradoc grabbed his coat and walked to the fireplace, grasping a handful of Floo powder and looking back at his uncle, who was already drifting back to sleep. "Uncle O… I think the Head of the Auror Department is a Death Eater."

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Frank looked from Dumbledore to Windstrum to the fast-talking man with ash on his face and soot in his hair, feeling a little confused.

"This is," said Dumbledore, frowning at his desk, "grave news."

"Fawley," Windstrum said with a shake of his head. "It was right in front of us this whole time."

The man looked at Windstrum and nodded. "I could be wrong, still. It might not be him. For all we know, Blithe may not even be someone who works in the Ministry."

Windstrum nodded. "You're right, of course. That possibility cannot be ruled out, as unlikely as it may seem."

"From the looks of things, however," said Dumbledore, looking up at them, "we have finally found our mole."

"Um…" said Frank.

They all looked over at him.

"Ah, Frank," said Windstrum. "Come in."

"Frank Longbottom?" asked the man, striding over and offering his hand. "Caradoc Dearborn, pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Likewise," he said slowly.

"Frank," said Dumbledore, gesturing to him to sit, "Caradoc has been working with Professor Windstrum for some months now to uncover a spy who was working closely with Eugenia Jenkins and feeding information to the Death Eaters. Caradoc himself is a spy of our own-"

"Should we really be telling him that?" asked Caradoc with a frown.

"-and he has been undercover, working in close quarters with some very dangerous individuals. I expect you to be discreet about this, of course."

"Can I tell Alice and James and all of that lot?"

Dumbledore thought about this for a moment before nodding. "I don't see why not."

"_I_ _do_," protested Caradoc.

"After an extensive investigation, we finally have an idea who Blithe is," Windstrum said.

"Blithe?"

"The spy."

"Right. Who is it?"

The two teachers glanced at Caradoc, who looked at Frank gravely. "Emmett Fawley."

Frank hesitated. "The Head of the Auror Department?"

"The very one."

"But- but James' dad is smart. He _trusts _Fawley."

"So did Eugenia," said Windstrum quietly.

Frank didn't know what to say to that, until his eyes widened suddenly and he remembered why he had come here in the first place. "The vote. We're voting for the next Minister again today. Fawley looks set to win it!"

Dumbledore nodded, gave a heavy sigh. "He does indeed. It seems drastic measures are quickly becoming necessary."

"What are you going to do?"

Dumbledore gave him a light smile. "Something drastic." He looked back to Caradoc. "Find the identity of this man associated with Fawley - the one who killed Cassus Lucio. We need definitive proof of Fawley's involvement."

Caradoc nodded and walked briskly to the fireplace. He stopped and looked back. "Make sure that man doesn't become the Minister, if you please."

Dumbledore inclined his head.

Half an hour later, they were back at the Ministry. Back in that courtroom that had no right being as large as it was. The same crowd had gathered, but it was different now. Bulstrode and Falwey, the two top competitors for Minister of Magic, were _both_ Death Eaters? It was unthinkable.

"You lot don't look nearly excited enough to be here again," said Sawyer Hughes with a grin, dropping down to sit with Dumbledore, Windstrum, Moody, and Frank again.

"Circumstances have changed since last week," said Dumbledore quietly. "I am glad you've found us, Sawyer - I'm afraid I must ask for your forgiveness."

Sawyer blinked. "What?"

Dumbledore stood. He didn't need to clear his throat for everyone else in the room to stop talking and look at him. "We will pick up right where we left off, I think. Until there is a majority of at least sixty percent, there will be no Minister of Magic."

"There _sort of_ will," said Bulstrode from the other side of the room.

"No," said Jedidiah Hobart, shaking his head. "There really won't."

"If you recall," continued Dumbledore, "last week we were unable to reach the sixty percent majority. For the sake of progress, if nothing else, I implore you all to reconsider your votes."

"How can we reconsider," said a bearded man sitting by himself, not far from Frank, "when the options are exactly the same?"

Dumbledore gave a smile that almost seemed to say _I'm glad you asked_. "Because I have decided to put forward a new name for your consideration."

There was muttering around the room, and people leaned forward a little. Morgan Bulstrode looked taken aback and peered at Dumbledore. "Who is it?

Dumbledore's half-moon spectacles glinted, and his smile curved that little bit more. "Sawyer Hughes."

"What?" said Sawyer, looking utterly confused.

"_What_?" said Bulstrode, both confused and angry.

But Frank's gaze was on Emmett Fawley, whose black eyes bored into Sawyer's face before drifting to rest on Dumbledore. "And what, if I may ask, Dumbledore, has brought on this sudden change of heart?"

Dumbledore turned his smile onto Fawley. "Why, Emmett, Sawyer Hughes is your superior. One would think that this is merely a natural progression."

Windstrum nodded and spoke up, his voice carrying through the room with that well-modulated timbre that only comes with practice. "He's right, Fawley. Why have the Head of the Auror Department when we can have the Head of Magical Law Enforcement? I think Hughes is a much better fit."

"Do I get any say in this?" Sawyer whispered to Dumbledore and Windstrum sharply.

Windstrum jerked his head. _No._

"Anton Windstrum," sneered Fawley. "Part of me is wondering why you are even here in the first place. You don't work in the Ministry. Why do you get to vote at this meeting?" Windstrum surveyed him coolly and said nothing. "Ah, that's right," Fawley continued. "Because you're _well connected_."

Windstrum shrugged. "I can't help that I have friends in high places. I'm a people person."

"He could have been Minister himself, if he'd put his mind to it," chimed in Bulstrode, looking at Windstrum with venom. "But Dumbledore's golden-boy turned away from a life of success and responsibility so he could wander off and play in jungles and mountain ranges around the world."

"A child by any other name," spat Fawley. "And now look at him. He's come crawling back to the thick of things, his tail between his legs. What's wrong, Anton? Did a snake bite your balls?"

Awkward laughs and mumblings filled the air.

"Can everyone who has a problem with me get in a line?" Windstrum called to the room at large. "I'm happy to smack you _all_ around and you'll save me the trouble of walking."

"I think," said Dumbledore loudly, bringing all eyes to him once more, "that this has gotten away from us. Will there be any more nominations to compete with Mr Fawley and Mr Bulstrode, aside from Sawyer Hughes?" Barty Crouch sat still this time, head down. No? Splendid. We shall take a ten minute break then, and vote once more when we return." He turned and started walking. The rest of the room took their cues and broke off, some staying seated and chatting, others leaving the room in dribs and drabs. Frank followed Dumbledore out, Windstrum and Sawyer right behind him. Moody stayed seated.

When they were out, they gathered in a small bunch in the corridor. Others from the meeting rushed around them, gathering in their own groups.

"What the hell is this, Dumbledore?" snapped Sawyer. "You think I want to be the Minister of Magic?"

"I truly am sorry to put this burden on you all of a sudden," said Dumbledore calmly, "but I'm afraid I had no choice." He looked around, making sure no-one was within earshot. "We have reason to believe Emmett Fawley is compromised. It is quite likely that he is a Death Eater."

"_What?_"

"As you can imagine, we'd rather he didn't take on the most powerful job in Britain."

"But why me?" pressed Sawyer. "Why not you? Or Moody? Or even Anton?"

"Oh, not you, too," groaned Windstrum. "Look, I was an ambitious teenager, and my dreams of wealth and success were crushed by the true nature of man. I haven't wanted the job in some time now. Can we move on?"

"What does that even mean?" Frank asked, frowning at Windstrum and not expecting an answer. He didn't get one.

"Why me, Dumbledore?" Sawyer said again, sounding resigned but frustrated.

"Aside from the fact that as Head of Magical Law Enforcement you have close to the highest authority in the Ministry, immense respect from all your peers, and an incredible influence on these people," said Dumbledore, gesturing towards the courtroom, "the most prominent reason is that I think you are the best person for the job. You are capable, clever, charismatic, and most importantly trustworthy. I cannon stress enough how valuable that trait is in these trying times."

The glowing praise had clearly worn Sawyer down. His frustration had turned into the smallest of smiles. "Well… thank you, Dumbledore."

Dumbledore patted his shoulder. "I expect that with this, we have stolen most of Emmett Fawley's voters from last week, along with a few of Bulstrode's, perhaps. That will be a clear majority. We _will_ make you Minister, Mr Hughes."

Windstrum looked over Dumbledore's shoulder and cleared his throat. "That can't be good."

Frank glanced back to see Emmett Fawley deep in conversation with Bulstrode. They did not look comfortable with one another, but nor did they look nearly as hostile as one would think the two competitors would be.

"That's just about the final nail in the coffin," said Windstrum, eyeing them shrewdly. He glanced back at Sawyer. "Bulstrode is a known Death Eater affiliate."

"That much I know," said Sawyer, looking pleased to not be completely out of the loop.

"What do you think they're talking about?" Frank asked.

"Somehow," said Windstrum, "I doubt it's Quidditch."

They didn't have to wait long to find out. Once they'd all reassembled in the courtroom and Dumbledore called them to order, the vote began anew.

"All in favor of Morgan Bulstrode?"

Not a single hand went up. Not even Bulstrode's. Dumbledore hesitated for the briefest of moments before nodding. "Zero. All in favor of Sawyer Hughes?" He raised his own hand. Windstrum, Moody, and Sawyer joined him. Around the room, Frank saw Harold Minchum, Sawyer's dark-haired friend, raise his hand, Jedidiah and his group raise their hands, some of Fawley's supporters from last week, and a handful more familiar faces. It was a strong showing. Unfortunately, it was not enough. "Twenty-one."

What happened next was rather obvious. When Dumbledore called Emmett Fawley's name, the rest of the hands in the room went up. It was a mix of Bulstrode's lot and Fawley's - what was left of them, at any rate. Clearly, predicting many of their voters would switch to Sawyer, the two had managed to come to some sort of agreement. Bulstrode and Fawley were officially in cahoots.

"Eighteen," said Dumbledore quietly.

Bulstrode gestured widely. "Alas, twenty-one to eighteen. We still haven't reached our sixty percent majority. And I even changed my vote this time!" Some chuckled, others muttered darkly to each other. "With great reluctance," he continued, smugness personified, "I suppose I shall continue to bear the responsibility of power, until a majority is reached."

"How did he do the math so fast?" Windstrum whispered. "Do you think we should start teaching math at Hogwarts?"

Frank frowned. "What do you think Arithmancy is?"

Windstrum frowned right back at him. "Does that involve numbers?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Well okay then."

"Evidently," said Dumbledore, his brows knotted, "we will not be able to resolve this matter today. For now, as with last week, nothing shall change. In the meantime, I ask you all to rethink your votes once more in the hope that we might finally reach a verdict."

With sighs and grumbles, people started getting up to leave. A few stayed seated, glaring at anyone they could think to glare at if it meant they could just be done with this whole affair.

"It's in Bulstrode's best interests to stall for as long as he can," Sawyer noted. "Clearly, he's realized that."

Windstrum nodded. "The longer it takes to vote you in, Sawyer, the longer Bulstrode remains in power."

Slowly, the group trudged out of the room with that heavy feeling of their time having been wasted.

"What now?" Frank asked.

"Now, Frank," sighed Dumbledore, "we wait. Then we'll vote. Then we'll likely vote again. In all honesty, I do not see this being resolved any time soon."

Frank couldn't quite grasp what he was hearing. "But then that means…"

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "Until we finish this vote, both the Ministry and the Auror Department are effectively run by Death Eaters."

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It did not bode well. Remus listened to Frank, as did James, Sirius, Lily, Marlene, Alice, and Peter. They sat in the Gryffindor Common Room at a late hour, possibly past midnight, Remus figured. It certainly helped to have the Head Boy and two Prefects among them, Remus himself included. Anyone who told them to go to bed would look at their faces and close their mouths. He could tell James and Sirius enjoyed that immensely.

"This is a lot to take in," said Alice slowly. "So Eugenia Jenkins was killed. The Head of the Auror Department is a Death Eater. The man running the Ministry for now is also a Death Eater. And his replacement could be the Head of the Auror Department who is, again, a Death Eater."

"It's not looking good," Frank agreed. He was staring at Alice while she looked into the fireplace ponderously.

Remus figured it was time to confess. "I had some inkling of this all."

His friends paused for a moment and then snapped their gazes over to him.

"What does that mean?" asked Sirius.

"I knew Bulstrode was a Death Eater affiliate and that there is a spy in the Ministry who goes by Blithe."

James sat forward. "And you didn't tell us?"

"I had strict instructions not to."

"You're _terrible_ at keeping secrets though," Sirius protested.

"I'm actually quite good," Remus said patiently. "You and James are just far too nosy and you have a knack for… finding things out."

He, James, Sirius, and Peter took a moment to quietly grin at each other. The rest of their friends looked to one another in bewilderment.

"Well," said James eventually, "how did you know?"

"I went on a 'field trip' with Professor Windstrum once. That man you met, Frank? Caradoc Dearborn? He and Windstrum are good friends, they met at Hogwarts. We went snooping around Britain for a few days, hunting for clues."

The others stared at him with slackened jaws. Some particular faces were envious. Sirius found his words first. "How come they asked _you_?"

"Sirius!" Marlene whacked him on the shoulder. "Remus has just as much to offer as the rest of us, if not more so. He's very talented."

Sirius rubbed his shoulder and glared. Remus knew his friend's shoulder wasn't really hurt. Sirius Black had wrestled with one too many werewolves for that. No, Remus instead attributed the movement to the fact that Sirius' fingers happened to graze with Marlene's on the way up. Marlene didn't notice. Remus wasn't even sure Sirius had done it intentionally. He just found it amusing.

"So Remus has been a part of this long before us all," Frank mused. "Come to think of it, that Caradoc fellow might have mentioned your name at some point. I sort of just figured he was mad. He did seem it."

Remus nodded. "Caradoc is sort of losing his mind. He's an Auror and a spy for Dumbledore. When he's not with Death Eaters trying to act like a a bigoted lunatic, he's at the Ministry, where they cannot know that he's doing this work for Dumbledore on the side."

"Caradoc Dearborn," said James thoughtfully. "My father has spoken of him a few times. He became an Auror only a few years ago and made a decent name for himself."

Marlene nodded. "He's visited my folks a few times, actually. He and my mum are distant cousins I think."

"None of these names are even remotely familiar to me," said Lily, wrinkling her nose and looking between them all blankly.

"Or me," said Peter with something of a mournful tone, as he spoke for what seemed like the first time that night.

James glanced at them both pityingly. "Change of topic, then."

"Don't patronize me, Potter."

"My sweet, I would _never_-"

"We might as well change the topic," said Frank loudly, before the two could derail the conversation further. "Have there been any developments with Snape and his recruits?"

"None," said Peter, looking glad to contribute. "I've been tailing him whenever I can, and while he is definitely still a twat, there is nothing sinister going on right now."

Sirius nodded. "If there were any group meetings between that lot, we would know."

The others waited with curious expressions, hoping for an explanation. By now though, Remus guessed, they knew better than to ask for one.

"Good to hear," said Frank after a few moments. "As far as Snape's lot is concerned, no news is good news."

"From what we heard when we _did_ catch them meeting," said Alice, "something is going to happen during Christmas break."

Marlene grimaced. "Not a lot we can do about it then though, is there?"

The others all shook their hands. It wasn't like they could follow Snape and his recruits around for the whole break - and despite himself, Remus had to wonder who would even want to. Eventually James clapped his hands. "That's everything on the agenda then, right?"

Frank nodded. "Just about."

There was a brief silence. They sat around in their armchairs or sprawled on the floor in front of the fireplace and the only noise was coming from the crackling wood.

"I love Christmas," Lily said suddenly, smiling at them all.

Groans and sighs.

"We know," said Marlene flatly.

"How do you bring that up out of nowhere?" Sirius demanded. "_None of us_ were talking about Christmas."

Lily folded her arms and tossed her hair. "We're all sitting round the fireplace and enjoying each other's company. That screams Christmas to me."

"Lily, I love you," said Alice, grimacing at her, "but your love for Christmas is unhealthy."

"You guys, it's December! As far as I'm concerned, this is normal behaviour." She turned her nose up in the air.

"It is a little unhealthy," James told her, almost apologetically.

Lily harrumphed and turned her head away from him, too.

"See, Lily?" said Marlene. "Even James will admit it, and he's still trying to butter you up for your _date _next week."

"Not a date," James said instantly.

"That's right," said Lily, sparing him an approving glance. "We are going to the party as _friends_. Because we are _friends_."

"Just to clarify, though," said Sirius with a frown, "what is James going with you as?"

She eyed Sirius darkly and spoke through gritted teeth. "He's going as my date."

"And yet you insist it is not a date," Sirius said, eyebrow raised.

"It's not," James insisted. "Look, you can take just about anyone _as_ your date, but you can take far less people _on_ a date." He looked rather pleased with himself for coming up with that, but the rest of them stared and waited for him to make sense. He sighed. "Listen. You can take _anyone_ as a date to, say, a dance - your friend, relative, whatever. But if you're taking them _on _a date, you most definitely should not take a relative."

After a moment, Frank spoke. "It's not exactly ground-breaking news that we shouldn't go taking our relatives on dates, James."

James sighed. "You're not listening."

"I'm going to bail James out of whatever point he's trying to make," Alice interrupted, "and change the subject _again_ with a little piece of gossip."

"Oh, I love gossip," said Frank, to everyone's surprise.

She eyed him, amused. "Right, well… fantastic. Anyway, I heard Aisling Byrne is spending the break at Brady Walsh's house."

As they talked, Remus kept an eye on the peculiar ways his friends were behaving. Frank himself, for starters, couldn't keep his eyes off Alice. Historically speaking, this was not anything new, but considering Frank had a girlfriend, and had kept himself at arm's length from Alice for the last few months, it did strike Remus as odd. Alice for her part had eyes only for Frank, which Remus supposed he couldn't really fault, seeing as she was single and clearly, from what Remus could tell, interested.

James and Lily, on the other hand, were a myriad of things. They were behaving the same as always around each other, and yet completely differently. The insults and the teasing were still there, but were now mixed with lingering eye contact and a few smiles thrown in here and there. James would make a passing joke and Lily would roll her eyes at him, but now Remus could see amusement in her eyes while they rolled. And that was all without mentioning how jumpy the two were with each other in regards to their… _appointment_ together at Slughorn's Christmas party in little less than a week. If it came up, one would change the subject, or both would act like there was nothing unusual at all about the two of them going together. Remus, at least, knew it was very unusual.

And that left Sirius and Marlene. Remus wasn't even sure there was anything going on there. For once, as unbelievable as it seemed, Sirius only wanted to be friends with this girl. Remus wouldn't have believed it if he wasn't watching his good friend first-hand, but Sirius seemed genuinely pleased to simply have Marlene around… as a _person_. That in itself was the most bizarre thing Remus could observed among his friends. Regardless, it was all enough to put a somewhat sappy smile on his face. It seemed he and Peter were the only shamefully lonely sods of the group.

He tuned back into the conversation as they started discussing various couples around the castle.

"Isaac and Sophie are _not_ together," Marlene scoffed. "They're just friends."

Alice shook her head. "No such thing." Frank looked at her quickly but she didn't seem to notice.

"There is so," piped up James. "Two people can like each other without having to_ like_ each other." Again he had the lot of them staring at him in confusion, and he rolled his eyes. "Come on, you know what I mean. You can like someone the same way you like Chocolate Frogs, but then you can _like_ someone the same way Evans _likes_ the library."

She slapped his arm. "Oh, shut up, Potter. But I do agree with the general idea - you like your friend, but you _like_ your lover."

Sirius made a disgusted face. "Did she just say lover?"

Frank looked intrigued. "That is an interesting way to look at things. To like is platonic, but to _like_ is romantic."

James beamed. "Exactly!"

Remus wanted to call all his friends idiots, but he was much too busy laughing with the lot of them to do so.

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"So your best friend is joining the Slug Club," said Marlene, propping her feet up on Sirius' lap. The others had long since left the Common Room. It was getting close to sunrise. "What's that like?"

Sirius shifted his position on the floor. "Your best friend has been in it for years, you should know better than me."

"Ah, but I have another best friend in Alice. Less shame for me that way."

Sirius snorted. "That might be the way to go."

"Yes, I do find it to be. So who gets the big promotion, then? For best friend, I mean. Remus? Pete?"

He eyed her curiously. "I have half a mind to make it you, McKinnon."

She raised an eyebrow from her own spot on the floor. "What have I told you about hitting on me, Black?"

"To never stop doing it."

"That doesn't sound like something I'd say."

"Are you calling me a liar?"

She shrugged. "Liar, git, idiot, hot-headed fool - take your pick."

He laughed, looking at the fireplace for a moment before turning back to her. "I wasn't even joking, though. Why can't you be one of my best friends?"

"Because you certainly aren't one of _my_ best friends."

"Weirdly, I'm okay with that."

"You're okay with a nearly one-sided friendship," she said dubiously.

He nodded, smirking. "James has lasted years dealing with far worse."

"But James also really likes Lily."

"He does…"

She narrowed her eyes. "It feels awfully like you're hitting on me, Black."

"And to me, it feels awfully like you don't want to be one of my best friends."

"Good. I'm making a concerted effort to make it feel that way."

Sirius sighed and looked at her flatly. "Why?"

She seemed to ponder her answer, and it took a few moments for her to provide it. "If you do become one of my close friends, Black, maybe then I'll tell you why."

He frowned, then hesitated. "You are… erm, well, you are attracted to men, right?"

She stared at him. He gave her a smile that he wanted to look encouraging, but probably looked pained. Marlene shook her head and closed her eyes. "Let me get this straight. In the head of Sirius Black, if a woman doesn't want to sleep with him, she must not be attracted to men."

Sirius tilted his head. "Well that wasn't quite what I was thinking, but how far is it from the truth, really?"

She shook her head again and sighed. "Yes, Black, I am attracted to guys. Very much so."

He gestured wildly. "Then what is it? What's stopping us?"

She looked at him for another prolonged moment, seeming to mull over her answer, before she suddenly frowned and looked incredulous. "Why did you make it romantic again?"

"I didn't make it romantic."

"You asked why I'm not attracted to you!"

"No, _you_ just decided to start going on about being attracted to men!"

She gasped. "Because you _asked_ me!"

Sirius paused. "Oh, yeah, I did." Marlene slumped back and shook her head. He grinned at her. "Did we just have our first fight?"

She banged her head against the sofa behind her and groaned. "Stop making everything sound romantic."

"I hate when we fight," he continued. "But I can't stay mad at you."

"Black, I will hurt you."

"Even if I'm not a close friend of yours, you're still a close friend of mine," he said. She looked at him, waiting. "So it's not you, it's me."

"Argh!" She took her feet off his lap and stood in a huff. "I'm going to bed."

Sirius smirked as she started storming off, looking to tease her more. "Love you, McKinnon!"

Marlene paused on her way to the staircase and looked back, frowning slightly.

"Too much?"

"A little."

Sirius nodded, taking it in stride. "Duly noted. Night, McKinnon."

She smiled at him finally, almost reluctantly. "Goodnight, Black."

With that she headed up the stairs, leaving Sirius alone with his thoughts in the Common Room. Glancing out the window, he could see the first rays of sunlight poking out over the horizon, leaking strings and cracks of blue and orange into the lightening night sky.

Sighing, Sirius got to his feet and readied himself for a very short sleep. Or perhaps a lengthy sleep. After all, Potions was the first class of the day, and the last thing a person needed on a morning of very little sleep was Professor Slughorn.

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Lily's tenure at the Slug Club had begun in her Fourth Year. With Severus Snape at her side she had stepped into a dinner-party for twenty and discovered that yes, Horace Slughorn really was just as narcissistic as he let on. A parade of self-indulgence under the guise of cultivating talent and potential among promising students, she had met politicians she didn't know, Quidditch players she didn't care about, and a real life vampire, all so her Professor could demonstrate how well-connected he was. And once Lily and her fellow Slug-Club members grew up and became successful, she knew he would parade _them_ around too, maintaining his neat little cycle, all from the comfort of his armchair with his perpetual box of Crystallised Pineapple in hand.

"I'm finally going to meet a _vampire_."

Lily looked at James shrewdly as they walked down a corridor on their way to the party. "I said the vampire was there one time. I haven't seen him since."

"It's a he?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

She narrowed her eyes. "Oh what?"

"A female vampire would have been much more exciting, that's all."

Lily wanted to punch him and she didn't know why. "Potter, why would a female vampire be more exciting?"

He hesitated. "She would have had a richer personality and… and we could have talked about knitting and stuff."

She fixed him with a disgusted look. "You thought you could hook up with her."

"I thought I could hook up with her," he admitted.

She wanted to punch him again, the urge even stronger now, and still she had no idea why. It worried her, for she was not a violent person. "Potter, you know vampires live for hundreds of years, right?"

"Well I didn't want to _marry_ her, Evans."

"No, I mean she would have already been a few hundred years old. That's disgusting."

His jaw dropped. "Evans… are you bigoted?"

"_What?_"

"Do you not like vampires?"

"There is nothing wrong with vampires-"

"But you don't think vampires and non-vampires should be in relationships?"

"Of course not."

"Evans," he looked genuinely surprised, "that is a really prejudiced thing to say. Vampires are just like you and me."

"Except they kill people."

"_Some_ of them kill people," he corrected. "That is a really harmful stigma, Evans. A lot of them are pacifists."

"They drink _blood_, Potter!"

"So? We eat chickens."

"Chickens are not humans!"

"And humans are not vampires."

Her eyes bugged out of her head. "So?"

"So," he said patiently, "it's all about perspective, isn't it? Chickens probably feel the same way about us as you do about vampires."

She was almost yelling now. "Chickens don't have intelligent thought, Potter!"

He wagged a finger at her. "That's what a lot of Pure-blood purists say about Muggles, you know."

"Potter, I am this close to strangling you." And she was. Lily abhorred violence, yet somehow James Potter made her embrace it like an old friend.

"I'm only saying it can't hurt to have an open mind."

"You want me to have an open mind about a sixteen year old boy being with a creature that's over a hundred?"

"There you go with the C-word, Evans. When you call them that, you dehumanize them. You must know that."

She closed her eyes briefly. "Potter. I can't dehumanize them. They are not humans."

"That's just sad."

"That's just the facts!"

"I'm really disappointed in you, Evans."

She opened her eyes and looked at him. He was smiling. She closed her eyes again, only for a different reason now. "Oh, you are a tosser."

"Evans."

"You're joking, aren't you? You're winding me up."

"Evans, you have a bit of red on your face."

"I'm going to kill you."

"You're so cute when you're murderous."

She glanced at him again, half a mind to finally give in and punch him, and he ruffled his hair absent-mindedly. She paused. Something about the way he did that… she couldn't pin her finger on it, but something flashed through her mind, sprinted through her belly. He lowered his arm and the feeling left just as quickly as it came.

James met her gaze and gave her a grin. They had reached Slughorn's office, and stopped by the door. He turned his body a little to face her. "Quick snog before we go in?"

"Potter, on Merlin's grave I swear to you-"

"Alright, alright," he said, laughing as he held the door open for her. "In we go, then."

She rolled her eyes and walked in. Slughorn's office was done a disservice by calling it an office. Even under normal circumstances it was large, unnecessarily so. When an office is fit to hold a banquet, that should be a good indication that something is unusual. Luxurious rugs and armchairs, a fireplace big enough to cook a hippogriff, and a _balcony_. Lily had to wonder what the balcony was for if not strictly for parties. She didn't see Slughorn as the type to ever fancy some fresh air. Regardless, it was excessive. The mental part to Lily was, all of that was under normal circumstances. For this Christmas party, the office walls had expanded to twice as far apart as normal. Really, the office could have taken up half the Great Hall. Clearly some magic was afoot. Christmas decorations covered almost every inch of the place. Mistletoe and baubles, stockings and Christmas trees, Slughorn had gone all out. The abundance of red and white and green and gold made Lily giddy. Merlin, she loved Christmas.

Of course, what good were extravagance and splendour without anyone to show it all off to? Close to a hundred people filled the office, talking and laughing and sipping drinks from fancy glasses. Waiters carried around finger-foods, a jazz band _bum-bum-bum-ed _and _tring-tring-tring-ed_ their way through catchy tunes in a corner, and picture frames of Slughorn himself with famous people adorned all the walls and some tables.

She looked at James, watching his expression closely.

He took it all in with interest, a smile growing on his face. "Evans, you should have invited me to one of these sooner."

She grinned. She wanted him to like it all. She didn't know why. "You should have stopped being a git sooner, Potter."

He snorted and glanced at her before turning back to gaze at the room. Together, wordlessly, the two strode forwards and joined the throng of people. It should have been chaos and impossible to find anyone, but within seconds Slughorn was in front of them and beholding them both. "My word, aren't you two a sight!" His cheeks already had the red tinge of Firewhisky's kiss. His smile seemed stuck to his face, only able to widen or shrink, never leave. "Potter, I'm ever so glad you could make it. Dress robes do you a great service, my good man."

James grinned, the ghost of his smirk hiding just behind it. "Thank you, Professor. I am ever so glad to be here." Lily had to admit, he did look rather dashing in dress robes. From the neck up he was as scruffy and unkempt as ever, but his robes were grand. Not loose, not tight, sitting casually upon his shoulders, like it had fallen onto him and he had decided to keep it. The way it billowed around him as he walked somehow struck Lily the same way Dumbledore's robes did as he walked. There was something grand, of importance about the way James looked in his robes, and Lily would be a liar if she said she hadn't been flustered when she'd walked down the stairs to the girl's dormitory and into the Common Room to find him waiting for her, his eyes becoming full and quickly alight with a dancing fire. She'd brushed the feeling off, of course, but it came back fleetingly as she stood there with him in front of Slughorn.

"And Miss Evans," said Slughorn, his jolly face turning to her now. "You, my dear, are as _bewitching_ as always."

"Thank… you."

He nodded quickly, his smile widening. "Come, come. There are some people the two of you simply must meet." He took both their shoulders and ushered them through the crowd.

Lily leaned in close to James behind Slughorn's frame. "It seems we simply must meet some people."

He leaned in a little, too. "Try not to distract them too much with how bewitching you are, my dear."

She winked. "No promises, Potter."

"Here we are," said Slughorn. Lily jerked back to face ahead and found a man in front of them. He was blonde haired and handsome, wearing black robes and a white cloak. "James, Lily, meet Sawyer Hughes, Head of Magical Law Enforcement and, if you believe the rumors, our next Minister of Magic!"

Sawyer rolled his eyes at the Potions master. "All rumors, Horace."

"Of course, of course." Slughorn nudged him. "I've also heard Emmett Fawley is in the running."

Sawyer regarded him shrewdly. "How could you possibly know that?"

Slughorn ignored the question. "Sawyer, this is Lily Evans and James Potter, the brightest witch and wizard in Sixth Year."

"In the school," James corrected. "Brightest in the school."

Lily elbowed him sharply. Sawyer regarded the two of them with amusement. "I see. I know your father, James. Served under him for a good few years. He was actually responsible for my promotion - he helped _me_ become his own _boss_."

James smiled wryly. "That sounds like my old man, alright."

"Frank has mentioned you two," Sawyer said thoughtfully. "At least I think he did."

"Frank?" said Lily. "Frank Longbottom?"

"Yeah, I met him a couple weeks back. Good lad."

Her eyes widened slightly as she recalled all Frank had told the lot of them about the meetings at the Ministry. She wasn't even sure if she was supposed to know about it all.

"Oh, you should have said you know Frank, Sawyer," said Slughorn. "He's here at this party!"

"Really? I haven't seen him."

Slughorn looked ecstatic. "I'll take you to him."

"No, there's no need-"

"Nonsense! Come along, Sawyer, I must connect you both."

"We've _met_ already…"

The two bustled off, and James and Lily grinned at each other in their wake.

"I want some of whatever Slughorn's having," James said, shaking his head.

She nudged him. "Let's go get some then."

They made their way through the crowd towards a waiter carrying a tray of drinks. When they lifted their fancy glasses off the tray, the waiter wandered off and in his place appeared none other than Frank Longbottom, arm in arm with Amelia Fawcett. She was pretty, her hair hanging by her shoulders, shiny. Her dress robes were radiant and purple.

"How are we?" Frank asked, tipping his head at them both. Amelia smiled politely beside him.

"Grand, mate," said James, bumping his shoulder. "Slughorn's looking for you, by the way."

"Oh, joy."

"He's got a friend of yours with him. Sawyer Hughes."

Frank raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"Slughorn's dragging him around," Lily snorted. "He didn't look pleased."

Frank laughed. Amelia shook his arm and leaned in. "I'm going to grab another drink. You want anything?"

"Nah, I'm alright. You go, I'll be right along." She nodded and slipped away. Frank watched her go, looking deep in thought.

James caught his eye. "By her being here, I'm assuming you've made your mind up about what we discussed the other week?"

Frank hesitated. "Quite the opposite." He looked from James to Lily, as though wondering how candid he could be, before seeming to cease caring. "I don't know what to do. Amelia is nice and I care for her, I really do. But she's not Alice. When I look at Alice I feel elated and nauseous, like I'm falling and flying at the same time. I'm happy and giddy and nervous. It's a rush. It's adrenaline."

"And with Amelia," said James, finishing the thought, "you don't have that."

"Yes, but James…" Frank looked in pain, "I have Amelia already. There's no guarantee about Alice."

Lily realized Frank had somehow failed to notice the longing glances Alice had been throwing his way for the last few months. "Frank, I think you should go with your gut. Take the leap, trust me."

Frank shook his head. "But I like Amelia."

"You like her," James said, putting a hand on Frank's shoulder, "but you don't _like_ her."

Frank stared at him. After some seconds, his eyes slowly cleared, like a fog was being lifted, and a dumb grin started to spread across his face. "James, old boy… you might have done it! Putting things into perspective like that, you might have really done it!"

"It barely made sense," Lily said with a slight shake of her head, more to herself than anything.

"This makes everything so much clearer," Frank said, still sounding shocked. "I know exactly what to do."

James nodded approvingly and clapped his shoulder. "Go on, then, Longbottom. Off with you. I'm sure you have some business to attend to now."

Frank nodded, grinned, turned on his heel and was lost to the crowd. Around them, the crowd swelled, their space diminishing more and more. Lily sipped her drink, grimaced as the bitter, burning taste seared down her throat. There were way too many people here.

James took her arm. "Balcony?"

It was like he could read her mind. She nodded simply. "Balcony."

They pushed and sidled their way through the crowd. The air started to thin, and then suddenly they were walking out onto the small balcony, taking in the school grounds and the stars and the lake glittering in the moonlight. Wind pulled at Lily's hair, brushing against her face. James leaned against the railing and Lily joined him.

She glanced at him, waiting for him to make something of the view. He reached up and ruffled his hair, the same as before, and again a jolt ran through Lily. It was the strangest feeling, like air rising from her belly to her throat and running back down again. Her arms tingled. It must have been the wind, or the altitude.

James met her gaze and smiled. It was only a slightly lopsided smile, but it still brought a soft smile of her own out to meet it. "The weather is nice," he said, clasping his hands on the railing.

She raised an eyebrow. "All this beautiful scenery and you choose to comment on the weather, Potter?"

His arm brushed hers. "There's only one thing out here that's beautiful, Evans, and you know it."

She waited. On any other girl, his words would have had them beaming and blushing at the praise, but Lily waited for him to finish.

James straightened and turned to rejoin the party. "I am, of course, referring to myself."

She shook her head and followed. "I knew it."

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Amelia Fawcett was not a pretty crier, it had to be said. Frank stood with her in a corner of the stupidly large office and patted her back awkwardly, ignoring the glares of the various nosy sods who passed and shook their heads at him.

Amelia sniffed. "What do you mean you like me but you don't _like_ me? That doesn't make any sense!"

"No, it does," Frank insisted. "Think about it-"

She stomped her foot. "Frank, why are you breaking up with me?"

"I just told you, it's because-"

"Give me a better reason."

He paused and thought for a moment before his expression cleared. "Do you ever feel like life is just making fun of you, Amelia?"

"No."

"Oh."

"Frank..." She looked at him, her make-up running. "I just don't get it. Is it because there's someone else?"

Frank hesitated.

"Why are you hesitating?"

"I'm not hesitating."

"There _is_ someone else! Who is she?"

"I did not hesitate," Frank protested.

"Is it Alice?"

Frank hesitated again.

"_Oh my God-_"

"Look, Amelia." Frank held her gaze. "I'm breaking up with you because this isn't working for me. Yes, I like you and I care for you, but that's as much as I can ever give and you deserve better. You deserve more than that, and I want to _feel_ more than that. And I don't see that happening in this relationship."

After looking at him for a long moment, she went back to sniffing. "You're mind is made up then. It's over."

He nodded slowly. "It's over."

She looked down, and then towards the exit. "I should go."

"You don't have to."

"I want to. Bye, Frank."

He nodded and rubbed his neck. "Bye, Amelia." She took a few steps towards the door before Frank called her name and she turned back, eyebrow raised. "I just… I hope we can still be friends."

She looked at him with her lips parted slightly and her eyebrows rising even higher before she rolled her eyes and shook her head a little, turning to leave again. "You are exceptionally thick."

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The steam billowing around the Hogwarts Express was exceptionally thick. Lily had to wave her hand in front of her face every few steps just to see where she was going.

"Lily!" Marlene appeared in front of her suddenly and Lily started. "You're coming round to mine next week, right?"

Lily nodded. "Yeah, I'll be with you from Christmas through to New Year's, Mar. I already owled my parents. I'll spend this next week and the rest of break with them anyway, so they're fine with it."

Marlene beamed. "Brilliant." Lily opened her mouth to ask Marlene to help with her luggage, but her friend quickly disappeared into the smoke, almost as though she had sensed a task about to be delegated to her.

"Alright, Evans?" Without asking, her bags were taken from her and messy black hair filled her vision.

"Potter. Give me my bags back."

"Nope. I'm a git." A hand found the crook of her arm and tugged her gently forward, and she found herself stepping onto the train, her vision clearing quickly as she left the smoke behind. James grinned at her, her bags in hand, and winked. "They're pretty much empty, anyway. What are they full of, scarves?"

"Oh, stop showing off," she growled, striding past him and knowing he'd follow. It was a comfortable assurance, and one she knew that she could always rely on, asked for or not. Lily stopped in front of a compartment seating Marlene and Alice and gestured for him to hurry up. He rolled his eyes, still smiling as he stepped in after her. Marlene and Alice greeted him and he nodded to them jovially.

Lily pointed to the suitcase rack above the seats. "Up," she said.

Without complaint, he obliged. He made it look easy, tucking her bags away on the rack like they were tins of tuna, and it was in these brief moments in a compartment on the train to London that Lily was hit by a realization. It wasn't as he lifted her bags onto a rack, it wasn't as his shirt rode up, it wasn't even the smile he gave her as he turned back to her after he'd placed the bags, the smile that she knew was just for her. It was when he reached up and ruffled his hair, and that _same_ feeling would rush through Lily as she watched him do it. Dizzy and breathless. Skittish and excited. It was when Frank Longbottom's words rang through her head.

_When I look at Alice I feel elated and nauseous, like I'm falling and flying at the same time. I'm happy and giddy and nervous. It's a rush. It's adrenaline._

In a flash, the realization hit her. The breath left her lungs, and she didn't even register James saying something cheeky before leaving the compartment. It was as the compartment door slid shut behind him, as the train set off for London, and as the Christmas break for her Sixth Year began that it dawned on her that she was in trouble.

Because she _liked_ James Potter.


	16. Outnumbered

Not for the first time since Christmas break had started, Lily marveled at how easy it was to eat without grubby hands grabbing at every plate on the table, and people yelling at the top of their lungs, and stray charms and hexes being thrown about the room.

She cleaned off her plate and sat back in her chair, watching her parents finish their dinner. Her dad swallowed a mouthful of food and glanced at her empty plate. "When did you say Marlene is coming to pick you up?"

"In about ten minutes."

"And you're all packed?"

"Of course." When was Lily ever not prepared well, well, _well_ in advance for something? "I'll be back after Christmas and New Year's, so I packed reasonably light."

"I saw two big bags sitting by your bed," said Mrs Evans dubiously.

Lily grinned. "I said reasonably."

Her mother shook her head and stood, her plate empty. "Here, give me your plate, Lily. You go bring your things to the door, you don't want to keep Marlene waiting."

Lily nodded and stood. Mr Evans said something indecipherable through a stuffed mouth and handed his empty plate to her mum, who rolled her eyes. "You're welcome, dear."

Lily started bounding up the stairs to her room and stopped when her mum called her name. She looked back. "Yes?"

"Brush your teeth, Lily."

"Mum, do you really think I would ever forget to brush my teeth?"

"Of course not. But do _you_ think that I will ever stop trying to remind you?"

Lily wrinkled her nose. "No."

"No, indeed. Now go brush your teeth."

She laughed and headed to the bathroom. As she brushed, she walked out to her room and started awkwardly dressing with one hand. Then she hopped back to the bathroom and spat, rinsed, and wriggled her way once more to her room, pants half on. Lily wondered if her friends' messier habits had rubbed off on her at any point - she was sure she used to dress and carry herself far more primly when she was younger.

She picked up her packed bags, filled to the brim with all the necessary essentials and plenty of unnecessary essentials too. With that being the case, she wondered if she could still call them essentials. Regardless, her meticulousness when it came to packing had certainly stayed with her through the years. Lily trundled down the stairs with her bags, glad that at the very least there was nothing that could happen that she wouldn't be prepared for.

The doorbell rang as she reached the bottom of the stairs and Lily set her bags down and headed over, a smile ready for her always bubbly friend.

She opened the door and stared instead at James Potter, standing on her doorstep as though it was what he had been born to do. His hair was messy, his face caked with mud. His grin was lopsided and there were jagged tears splitting through his clothes. His eyes lit up as they met hers.

"Alright, Evans?"

Lily barely noticed her mum standing by her shoulder, her head tilted in confusion. Her dad stood by her other shoulder and leaned forward, frowning. "Lily, you might think this a silly question, but… this isn't Marlene, right?"

Slowly, Lily shook her head, all belief that she was prepared for the day abandoned. "No. No it is not."

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_Five hours earlier_

A crowded London street that teemed with families, shops, tourists, and stern-browed workers had three unique young individuals walking quickly along it, going to great efforts not to attract attention. The first was a pale faced, dark haired boy with a hooked nose and sallow skin. His clothes were shabby, his eyes a black abyss. He would scan his surroundings constantly, every move calculated, carrying the air of someone who really, really didn't want to be noticed.

Not far behind him were two other dark haired boys. The first, wearing glasses and sporting messy, unruly hair, slowed and turned around abruptly. "He's looking."

His friend, with well-groomed locks and a perpetually jaunty smile, stopped beside him and turned too, pretending to see something interesting in a shop window. "Did he see us?"

"No, I don't think so." Chancing a glance back at their quarry, the first boy craned his neck and his eyes widened as he saw greasy black hair turn a corner and disappear. "He's moving, let's go!" They turned back and hurried down the street, weaving through the shoppers and workers bustling about their business as the pair chased after the boy. They turned the corner and were met with another street, just as crowded and much longer. It was a sea of people, way too many to single any old one out, and after a few seconds of standing on tip-toe, desperately searching the tops of heads among the crowd, both boys gave up and stood there, panting, frustrated.

"Damn," said Sirius Black, smacking his fist into his palm. "We've lost him."

James Potter nodded, looking no less disappointed. "He's a slimy one, that Snape."

"No kidding." The two started down the street, still looking every which way, hoping to catch another glimpse of Severus Snape. "What do you reckon he was up to?"

James shrugged. "When someone as dodgy as Snape looks that eager to go unnoticed, it can only mean bad things."

The two had stumbled upon Snape just outside Diagon Alley as they walked down Charing Cross Road, on their way to the Leaky Cauldron. Knowing Snape did not live in the area, and being well-acquainted with the body language of a trouble-maker, the pair had needed no prompting to instantly take to following the unscrupulous Slytherin. The boys and their friends were already on high alert for Snape, knowing he led a small group of fellow student Death Eaters, and knowing that the group of them may have dastardly plans for the Christmas break.

"Why would Snape come here?" Sirius wondered aloud. "He doesn't strike me as the type to enjoy a crowded area."

"Which means," said James, narrowing his eyes, "eventually he would have moved to less crowded areas, away from prying eyes. I'm thinking back-alleys and narrow side-streets."

Sirius nodded. "I agree. But it's not like we can check every back-alley and side-street in London."

"I think he'll still be in this area. If he was heading somewhere far from here, he would have just apparated."

"Is he even seventeen?" Sirius asked with a frown. "Wouldn't he get done in for underage magic?"

"Not in the middle of London," snorted James. "The Trace doesn't check who uses the spell, just our location. These parts are densely populated with wizards, it wouldn't raise any red flags."

"Well, does he even know _how_ to apparate? The Ministry classes at school don't start for another month."

"So? We apparate at home all the time."

"Yes, but is Snape even half as brilliant as we are, Prongs?"

James wrinkled his nose. "You're going to hate me for saying this-"

"Then don't say it."

"-but Snape is…"

"Don't."

"...quite talented, in his own right."

Sirius threw his hands in the air. "Damn it, Prongs! You need to stop hanging round Evans, you know that? You just gave Snivellus a compliment for absolutely _no reason_."

James rolled his eyes at his friend and inclined his head towards an alley on their left. "I'm in a generous mood." Sirius followed him into the alley. It was shady, and the air was slightly stale. The chattering, the noise, and the hustle and bustle of the street, was left behind the further they walked through the alley, carrying weakly towards them. It wasn't narrow, there was room enough for perhaps five people to stand shoulder-to-shoulder and not be cramped, but the looming walls, the strewn garbage bags and litter along the sides, seemed to cage the two boys in. James stopped.

"It's a dead end."

Sirius glanced at him briefly before peering ahead. "Are you sure? I can barely see anything down there." He walked ahead and James sighed.

"I'm telling you, it's blocked. I can see a wall there, Padfoot."

After a few more steps, Sirius stopped and turned, rubbing the back of neck and grimacing. Behind him was the wall. Too tall to jump, no handholds to climb over. If Snape had come this way, he clearly wasn't athletic enough to get past that.

"Told you," said James. Sirius didn't say anything, looking behind him with a flat stare. James turned and stiffened a little.

Four teenagers, perhaps a few years older than the pair, were at the other end of the alley. Muggles, as far as James could tell. Tall, bulky, and mean looking, the four of them barred the exit with the sort of assurance that only comes with practice. They were muggers, and this was not their first mugging.

James' hand instantly went to his wand and Sirius held his arm out, staying him. "We can't use magic," Sirius said quietly.

"We can obliviate them later. It's not a big deal."

"And if someone walks in? If we're caught? Underage magic and assault of some Muggles by two Pure-bloods does not look good, Prongs."

James hesitated. It was most unlike Sirius to be level-headed at a time like this, but he was right. Sirius started walking forwards, and with a grunt James caught up to him and walked alongside. He eyed the four teenagers shrewdly, grimy boys with leering smiles, who all straightened and stood at their tallest, chests stuck out and knuckles cracking as the pair drew near.

"You really think we can punch our way out?" James murmured to his friend. "There are four of them and only two of us."

"Then we outnumber them," said Sirius with a grim smile. "Don't you think?"

James sighed. "Maybe _you_ need to hang out with Evans more, Padfoot. It would do you a world of good."

Sirius didn't respond. The four boys were right in front of them now, and the biggest of the lot, a blond haired boy with handsome features and an ugly sneer that extended up to wicked eyes, started speaking. "These two look rich, don't they, boys?" His friends jeered and sniggered behind him, and he turned to grin at them all. "I think we'll-"

Without breaking stride, Sirius rocked the boy in the face with his fist, smashing his nose and spurting blood into the air. His friends gave cries of surprise and outrage and they leaped forwards, past the injured boy. James clipped the first one on the chin, driving him back a few steps. The second rushed at him and he ducked under a clumsy punch and drove an elbow into his assailant's ribs. The boy grunted, and James dropped a shoulder and charged him into the wall, slamming him hard. When he stepped back, the boy slumped to the ground, whimpering in pain.

A few steps away, Sirius was weaving between the blonde boy and a brown haired, shorter boy with ratty features. James looked away quickly as the one he'd clipped on the chin reared back at him, snarling. James made to step forwards when the boy reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife, about the size of a razor blade. James' eyes widened and he jerked back, raising his hands, open, so he could bat away or catch any swipes from the sharp blade. The armed boy sensed his hesitation and moved forwards slowly, his confidence growing on his face, and he brandished the knife far in front of him to drive James further back. The weight of James' wand in his pocket started calling to him, but he cast it from his mind. It was not an option.

James moved forward suddenly, catching the boy by surprise, and he made a lunge for the knife. At the last moment the boy jerked his hand out of reach and then brought it back round for a wild swipe at James. James side-stepped around the swipe, reaching the boy's other side. He made to grab for the boy while his back was turned, but from the ground the attacker that James had rammed into the wall grabbed his leg, forcing him to stumble. The boy with the knife turned around and slashed at James. By luck alone, the knife cut through only fabric. James kicked the hands off his leg, cursing his assailant on the ground, and the boy with the knife took another slash at James. This one sliced through his sleeve, and again James counted himself lucky.

The boy on the ground seemed to have mustered his energy for one more small charge, ramming into James' legs with his shoulders and bringing James to the ground amid a string of curses. James wrestled with the boy on the ground, tasting dirt and grime, feeling it all rub into his skin. His other opponent kicked him in the head. It was a bad kick, barely clipping him, but it was enough to make his world rock. Stars appeared in his vision, there was a knife somewhere in front of him too. Wildly, James lifted his knees from his position on the ground and felt his right knee crack hard into something. His vision cleared in time for him to see the boy on the ground's eyes roll into the back of his head, and the boy collapsed, unmoving. The one with the knife kicked at James while he was distracted, and James rolled, dodging most of the kick's force but still getting caught in the ribs. He grunted, curling into a ball.

"We only wanted your money," said the boy, his voice rasping. "No one had to get hurt. But now… now you have to die."

James grimaced and rolled his eyes on the ground. When the boy was close enough he sprang up off the ground, in much the same way he would do a burpee exercise at Quidditch practice, and with his opponent's eyes still widening in surprise, knife hand yet to move, James rushed him, getting in his space before the boy could react. With a punch to the jaw, the boy fell.

James bent over him, watching him shift slightly and groan, and finally he pulled his wand out. James leaned close so not even the boy could see it. "Stupefy," he whispered. The boy jerked on the ground, before his body slumped and stopped moving. James simply hadn't wanted to take the risk.

He stood tall, wincing slightly before slouching again. He clutched his ribs and looked around. The blonde boy was unconscious, leaning against the wall. Sirius stood over his other opponent with his wand pressed to the boy's temple, before pocketing it. This boy slumped, unconscious now too.

James raised an eyebrow. "You cheated."

"Oh, please," said Sirius, rolling his eyes. "Don't think I didn't just see you stunning that one with the knife, Prongs. You're not as slick as you think."

They emerged from the alley, grimy, battered, but victorious. Three men in blue uniforms and clunky hats stared at them. They looked behind James and Sirius, at the four unconscious bodies.

"Stop right there," said the one closest to the pair, a man with thick eyebrows and a bushy mustache. He pulled a baton from a pouch on his waist. The other two followed his lead, stepping up alongside him with their own batons in hand.

"You reckon these are policemen?" Sirius whispered to James.

"Must be," James said under his breath.

"Stop whispering," the lead policeman yelled, stepping forward.

"Ready for round two?" asked Sirius, grinning with bared teeth.

James frowned. "_No_."

"Good. Neither."

James looked at him. The privilege of being as close to another person as James was to Sirius was that James knew exactly what his friend was thinking. They turned back to the policemen, who were approaching cautiously, pulling handcuffs from their belts.

"Look," James cried, pointing behind the blue clad figures, "what's that?"

The three of them actually turned, but James and Sirius didn't stick around long enough to see. They bolted down the street, taking no care now to go unnoticed, rushing past the shoppers and workers, bumping into some of them and not pausing to give apologies.

"Stop! You're under arrest!"

They turned a corner, ran down yet another crowded street. They weaved and side-stepped, bumped and ran on, street to street. "Down here," James said to Sirius, indicating an upcoming alley. They rushed into the alley, sprinted down the dark, narrow path.

"Better not be a dead end," Sirius muttered as they ran. James merely grunted, and they kept on running. The alley was long and winding, and there was very little light. Down the end, light shone where the alley met a street. "We've surely lost them by now," Sirius said, panting.

James nodded, and the two slowed as they reached the end of the alley. They emerged into an empty street. It was a neighbourhood. The houses were squat, the ground was stone and cobbled. Neither boy had a clue where they were.

"You think we can apparate out of here?" Sirius asked, looking around doubtfully. "This doesn't seem like a very magical part of London. We'll get busted, The Trace will surely pick us up."

James nodded. "You're right. I don't suppose you have any Floo powder on you, by any chance?"

Sirius shook his head grimly. "None."

"It looks like we'll have to make our way back on foot, then." Both boys let out sighs, and grudgingly faced the alley again. As they made to walk back, they heard a noise from the cobbled stone street behind them. They turned and peeked out.

"No way," whispered Sirius.

Severus Snape walked down the street, no longer looking cagey or overly-cautious. He passed their little alley without noticing the two boys, and continued on his way. James couldn't believe their luck. He didn't even need to look at Sirius. Wordlessly, they started following their quarry once more. They kept to a great distance behind him - they couldn't let Snape turn and see them.

Down the street the three walked, the first none the wiser to his two tails. Snape reached the end of the street, and James and Sirius stiffened, ducked behind the fence of a decrepit house. Mulciber, Rosier, and Travers, alongside two Seventh Years, Julius Avery and Antonin Dolohov Junior, stood by a wall near the end of the street. The wall was graffitied and chipped, standing by itself as though once part of a much bigger wall, but was now the last two meters' length of brick left standing. As the two Gryffindors watched, a figure emerged from the wall, stepping out of it like it was an average door. The man was tall, wearing black robes and carrying a Death Eater mask in his hand.

"Now," Sirius whispered to James, "we might be outnumbered."

James snorted. "Clearly. We need to get closer."

Sirius hesitated, then nodded. They crept along the length of the fence, keeping themselves out of sight. Voices from the group ahead started carrying over to the two, and when the words were legible, the voices distinct, the boys stopped where they were.

"-long do we have to wait for?" That voice belonged to Travers, James reckoned.

A deep voice he didn't recognize, with a strong Russian accent that must have belonged to the newcomer, responded. "A few more hours. The train does not stop on this continent very often."

James and Sirius looked at each other with frowns. The train?

Dolohov spoke up. "Why couldn't we catch a train from King's Cross?"

"This is a magical train," the man said, his voice sounding testy. He didn't seem like the type who worked with children or teenagers very often, if at all. "It does not stop at King's Cross. Strictly speaking, it is not even legal. We will wait here, and the train will come for us before the night is out."

"But how soon?" Dolohov pressed.

The man regarded him shrewdly. "You are so keen for this mission to begin?"

Dolohov stood straighter. "I am eager to prove myself, sir."

The man stared at him for a few more seconds, before he nodded and surveyed the rest of them. "Good. You will certainly get the opportunity to do so - you all will. By the end, the Dark Lord will be very impressed with you all, I am sure. The train will be here in a matter of hours." He turned and walked back through the brick wall, disappearing. The Slytherins started talking amongst themselves excitedly.

Sirius turned to James, eyebrows raised. "I'm sure you aren't opposed to bringing in reinforcements." His tone was casual, but his eyes betrayed his worry.

James nodded firmly, his own eyes set on the Slytherins. "Yes, Padfoot. Now is a good time to call in the cavalry."

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Lily got over her surprise and crossed her arms, glaring at him. "What are you doing here, Potter?"

James looked at her like it was obvious. "I'm here to pick you up, of course."

"Pick her up?" Mr Evans repeated, his eyes narrowing. "Who are you? My daughter is not going anywhere with you."

"Not without some tea first, at any rate," said Mrs Evans lightly, clasping her hands and beaming at James. "What is your name, dear?"

He cast his most charming smile onto Lily's mother, and if Lily were not so nonplussed at his arrival she might have found herself blushing. "James Potter. It is my absolute pleasure to meet you, Mrs Evans. You truly do share your daughter's radiance."

Lily rolled her eyes and her mother chuckled. Mr Evans' frown only deepened, looking between his wife and James with his lips pursed. He wagged a finger at James. "You leave my wife and daughter alone, boy, you hear me?"

Mrs Evans swatted her husband's arm. "Oh, shut it, dear. James is nothing short of a gentleman. Do come in, James. I can make you some hot cocoa, if you'd like?"

"I would love to take you up on that offer, Mrs Evans, but perhaps another time-"

"-or never," Mr Evans interrupted, glaring at James.

"Unfortunately," James continued, not letting Lily's father shake him at all, "we are on a rather tight schedule, and really must be heading off now."

"Rather tight schedule for _what_?" asked Lily suspiciously. "Where's Marlene?"

"She's with Sirius," he said, turning his grin on her with a heart-stopping twinkle in his eye.

"And where are they?"

"They're grabbing Frank and Alice. I volunteered to come get you."

She refused to let herself grin at him. "Potter, what is going on? Why are you here?"

"Yes," said Mr Evans loudly. "Young man, why _are _you here?"

Mrs Evans put her hands to her cheeks and beamed at James and Lily. "They're going on a date!"

Lily's own cheeks reddened. "That is the last thing that this is, I assure you."

"It seems somewhat like a date to me," said Mr Evans, his frown deepening.

"It can be," James offered. "I'm not opposed to that."

"I am," Lily and her father said at the same time.

"It's decided then," Mrs Evans decided, beaming. "It's a date."

"It is _not_ decided," Lily decided back, glaring at the lot of them. "It really, really isn't. Now James and I, it seems, have somewhere to be." She marched inside and grabbed her bags before marching on out again to stand beside him. "So, if you will excuse us." She looked at James expectantly and he nodded after a moment, placing a light hand on her shoulder and letting her lead the way down the driveway. She waved at her parents as they walked.

"I don't like this," Mr Evans called from the door.

Mrs Evans pushed past him. "He'll grow to like it, Lily, don't you worry! Go on and have fun with your boyfriend!"

Mr Evans stole Lily's words as Lily and James reached the sidewalk. "He is _not_ her boyfriend!"

Lily shook her head at both her parents, waved one more time, and when her house had disappeared behind shrubs and neighbours and fences, she glanced at James. He was looking ahead, his glasses slightly askew, dirt rubbed into his face. Still she felt herself grow nervous, walking alone with him. He looked filthy, yet still she felt a blush creep on as he glanced sideways at her, meeting her gaze, and grinned that stupid, warming, stomach-churning grin.

Oh, she had it bad.

"What?" he asked.

She quickly smothered her feelings, drowning the blush. "What do you mean, _what_? Tell me where we're going and why you're here, or so help me, Potter, I will-"

He stopped abruptly and turned to face her. He raised his fist. It occurred to her then that his fist had been clenched this entire time, like he was holding an invisible stick of chalk. With his other hand he pulled at something in the air, and to Lily's shock a cloak came with it. Silky, silvery, and beautifully woven, it flowed from his hand like a waterfall. In his clenched fist was a broomstick. Lily's appreciation for broomsticks was limited, but even she could tell it was both expensive and probably very, very fast.

It took some seconds for Lily to find her words. "Ignoring the fact that you are holding an invisibility cloak, and that as a Prefect, I now have very definitive proof for a _lot_ of unpunished deeds, Potter," she paused, and he waited patiently, "it occurs to me that you're about to ask me to get on that broomstick. I'll save you the trouble. No."

He spoke simply. "We can't apparate."

"Why ever not?"

"In this neighbourhood, Evans? We'll get done in for under-age magic. And this way, we get to have a romantic broomstick ride across the country. Doesn't that sound grand?"

"You cannot be serious."

"No, I'm not," he admitted. "We're flying to a magical suburb not far from here. We'll apparate to my place from there."

"That raises another question, Potter. Why are we going to your place?"

"One thing at a time, Evans." She wasn't sure how it happened, but suddenly she found herself perched on the back of the broomstick. James climbed on in front of her. "Arms round my waist, Evans, if you please. Tight. I'd rather not have to scrape you off the pavement."

Tentatively, she wrapped her arms around him. She could rest her chin on his shoulder. She didn't though. He smelled good. The skin on his neck made her want to touch it and she didn't know why. All of this should have led to something romantic.

He took off suddenly and she screamed, and they flew very fast.

It wasn't romantic.

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Marlene's parents were Pure-bloods. Their house was unnecessarily large, their wealth immense, their sensibilities grand and haughty.

And even she thought Potter Manor was outrageously glamorous. She had been here in the past, for functions and high tea, but never of her own volition. She stood with Lily in the 'small' library, as James had called it, which was three times the size of the Gryffindor Common Room. House-elves wandered from shelf to shelf, adding and replacing books. Even their pillowcase garments looked exquisite.

Lily seemed confunded by it all. "There I was thinking he's really not that daunting," she mumbled.

Marlene looked at her oddly. "Since when did you think James is daunting?"

"Nothing. I didn't. I don't."

A slow nod. "Okay."

"Big."

"What?"

Lily gestured vaguely. "The house is just big."

"Right. Well it _is_ a Manor."

"It's a Manor?" She looked like she might faint.

"Yes it's a- Have you _looked_ at it, Lily?"

Lily looked defensive. "James apparated us straight in here! I haven't even seen the rest of the place, how should I know what it looks like from the outside?"

Understanding dawned on Marlene. "You're still not used to side-along apparition. That's why you're so weird."

"I'm weird? Erm, yes, that's why I'm weird." Lily paused and sighed. "This whole time I thought your place was ridiculously big."

"It is. Just not quite as extravagant as all this."

James approached, followed by Sirius, Frank, Alice, and Peter. "Extravagance comes in all shapes and sizes, McKinnon. Us Potters only know how to do things in excess, though." They gathered around a small table.

Remus walked over from another part of the library, his nose in a book, before he stopped at the table and looked at them all. "I've got it. It's called the Dàochù train. When the Chinese Ministry banned portkeys forty years ago, a powerful witch called Táoyì created a train that can go to any place, at any time. It was meant to revolutionize travel, but because it would allow immigration to be unregulated, as well as take money away from Ministries around the world seeing as no-one would keep paying for portkeys and apparition papers to cross borders, most Ministries ending up banning it. As a result, it's mainly used for smuggling purposes, and draws in a somewhat dodgy crowd."

"Do we know where it stops?" James asked.

Remus nodded. "Obviously, there is the wall that you and Sirius saw Snape's lot hanging around. Walking through the wall gets you onto a platform similar to Nine and Three-Quarters, and from there you can board the train. But to get on the platform, to walk through the wall, you must have a boarding pass on your person, or else you will be obliterated."

Marlene frowned. "Obliterated?"

Remus waved the book in the air. "That's what it says. Irrespective of what exactly that means, it doesn't sound pleasant."

"Do we know where the train stops before that specific wall?" Frank asked.

"Yes. It stops at a very similar wall in a small town in Oxfordshire. I've already acquired the Floo address of a house nearby, so all we need are some boarding passes. What do you guys reckon?"

The eight of them stood around, staring at each other for a moment. Were they really going to put themselves out there, jump headfirst into yet another very dangerous, very avoidable situation?

One by one, each set of eyes steeled, resolves being forged. The answer, clearly, was yes.

Marlene spoke first. "Where do we get the boarding passes?"

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Antonin Dolohov Junior did not consider himself arrogant, but he also felt somewhat embittered by the way certain gears seemed to be turning. He was a Seventh Year taking orders from Severus Snape, a Sixth Year. Where was the sense in that? There was no rhyme or reason to the decision, as far as Antonin could tell. No, he did not consider himself arrogant at all, but he still had a growing locust inside of him telling him that he was every bit as talented, clever, and commanding as Snape, if not more so.

The group of Slytherins, as well as the big Russian man, Adrian Chernov, sat close together near the back of a carriage at the very end of the long train. The group didn't talk much. Adrian didn't seem particularly interested in conversing with any of them, giving Antonin the impression that he felt he'd been stuck with a babysitting job. The disheartening feeling of talents being wasted, that's how Antonin felt having to answer to Severus Snape.

He sighed and got to his feet. None of them looked up. He didn't expect them to.

Antonin walked along the carriage. A few other people were scattered along the rows of seats, keeping to themselves. They were all roguish looking folk, shifty, with a dangerous look in their eyes. One man, sitting by himself, had an eyepatch. Antonin couldn't lie, that was quite cool.

He walked to the next carriage. There were only eight other people in this one. He looked out the window. It was an odd sight. The Dàochù train didn't travel along tracks, nor through temporal space. Therefore, when he looked out it wasn't nature that he saw, or the countryside. Instead he saw… space. He didn't think it could be described. There were colors and shapes and moving things, but they never formed a cohesive image until the train stopped, at which point he could look at frothy seas on the coast of New Zealand, the tempestuous sands of Egypt, a heavily graffitied wall in France. It was nice, he supposed.

Someone was looking at him. Antonin snapped his gaze over to a portly boy sitting close to where he was. He met the boy's watery eyes, which widened, and the boy quickly hid his face behind a magazine. The boy had looked familiar for a moment, but not enough to make Antonin approach him. He walked on. The other seven people in the carriage didn't look over. They were all busy. At the front of the compartment, a boy with dark, messy hair had his head resting against the window. He was sleeping. A red-haired girl sitting behind him was reading a book, her head down, looking far too interested in it. Now that Antonin thought about it, all eight of them were hiding their faces in some way or another. A hand, a book, something was tucking each of their faces away. A blond haired boy was immersed completely in fiddling with his shirt. No shirt was that interesting. Antonin walked closer. There was sweat on the side of the boy's face. The boy met Antonin's eyes. It was Frank Longbottom.

"Stupefy!"

Antonin went flying back, knocked his head against a seat, hit the ground. His vision blurred and his body ignored his mind's urge to move. He was dimly aware of the seven others gathering around him and talking. His hands were bound. He could feel wire digging into the skin. Some time later, he registered being propped upright and his vision cleared. The eight of them surrounded him. Antonin opened his mouth to call for help.

"Call for help," said a boy with wavy black locks… Sirius Black, Antonin noted with an internal groan, "and I'll break your face."

Slowly, Antonin nodded.

"Good," said Frank Longbottom, next to Black. "Thank you for your cooperation, Dolohov. Now, we have a lot of ques-"

Antonin opened his mouth wide again to call for help.

When he woke up hours later in a train station in Amritsar, India, the last thing Antonin could remember was the proximity of Sirius Black's knuckles.

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The Gryffindors spent some time arguing over what to do with Dolohov's unconscious body. All but one of them were fine with leaving him on the train. Lily had said that might be dangerous for him. The rest of them saw that only as a good thing. As far as Remus was concerned, forgiveness could be damned when it came to serial killers and their hulking, brainless minions. So when they saw the Slytherins and the big Russian man getting off the train at an otherwise empty platform, the Gryffindors left Dolohov on the train, waited for their quarries to pass through a brick wall at the end of the small platform, and disembarked together.

Frank peaked his head through the brick wall, made sure there was cover on the other side for the group to hide behind, and they followed him through. Remus shielded his eyes as he emerged from the dimly lit platform and stepped into a wet, grassy meadow at the top of a hill. The sun glared down at them, scaring away dark clouds that roiled off to sulk elsewhere in the sky. Land stretched out from the hill in all directions. There were towns in the distance, spread out and separated by farmland and dirt tracks. At the very bottom of the hill was one such town, large and dusty. Remus spied the Slytherins approaching the town below them.

"Where are we?" asked Sirius.

Frank was still surveying the land around them, scrutinizing the horizon. "It's hard to say. I'm guessing we're still in Europe, but I could be wrong." He joined Remus in looking down at the town, and the rest followed suit. "We have no idea what we're getting ourselves into."

Alice shook her head. "Nope."

"And we're all fine with going in blind? We just walk down the hill and straight into the town?"

They all looked at each other, expressions flat. Then they walked down the hill and straight towards the town. Keeping low as they walked, just in case someone at the bottom looked over, they scaled their way down in silence and approached the town. There was a sign stuck into the ground, words written on it in a language Remus didn't understand.

"Eastern European, I think," Frank said quietly.

"How do you know?" asked James.

"I don't know, I said I think."

"So it might not be, then."

"No, I'm sure it is."

"If you're sure, then how do you know?"

Frank growled. "I just have a feeling, Potter."

They crept into the town. "So you're not sure," James said.

"Does it matter?"

No one was on the streets, and the Slytherins had disappeared. The group flattened themselves against a wall, doing their best to be quiet. "It does matter," James whispered. "Our location tells us how much danger we're in. There's a lot of Death Eater activity in Eastern Europe. Very little in, say, Asia, or Africa."

"Well you can rule those out," said Frank. "That sign wasn't in an Asian or African language."

"But how do you know that?"

"I can just tell, okay?"

"If you both don't shut up," Marlene breathed, "I will give you the beating of a fucking lifetime-"

"I'll give you a detention," Frank whispered.

James nodded. "And Lily will also give you a detention, on my behalf."

"I will do no such thing," said Lily.

Remus shuffled to the edge of the wall, peeked out. "Hey, it's clear. Let's go." He crept out from behind cover. The others followed behind him, still bickering. He crouched as he walked. Peter appeared by his side, his brow furrowed in determination and concentration. Remus nodded to him and Peter nodded back. They walked on, came to the end of a street.

Remus raised a hand sharply. Everyone stopped behind him and looked at him curiously. "Do you hear that?" he whispered. They paused, listening.

"Voices," Alice said quietly.

"Lots of them," Remus added. "From up ahead." Remus leaned against the side of a crumbling house and edged forward, looking past the house, round the corner of the street. "Nothing. Let's keep moving." They followed him round the corner and down the street. Remus could still hear a couple of them whispering behind him, but he ignored them. The voices ahead were much louder now. It wasn't raucous. It sounded instead like an amiable tea party, the tones calm and level. He leaned against the side of another house as he approached the end of the street. The voices came from right up ahead. He crept forward, and then, in a quick jerk, he risked a peek round the corner and flung himself back. Death Eaters, a small army of them, gathered in a courtyard. Masked faces turned to each other as they chatted away. No clear leader, no one at the forefront. Their number was somewhere in the fifties, maybe more.

Remus' expression seemed to say it all. The others looked at him, each taking it in turns to stand where Remus had stood and risk a quick peek ahead. Each looked back with wide eyes. Eventually, wordlessly, once they were all satisfied and shocked in woefully unequal measure, they walked back the way they'd come.

Frank spoke first, looking at James and Sirius. "I'm assuming that the two of you also contacted Dumbledore, right? Any word on when he'll show up?" Neither of the two responded. "You must not have heard me."

"We heard you."

"Then give me a damn answer."

James looked at him flatly. "We didn't contact anyone else. Sirius went straight to Marlene, the two of them went to get Alice, and then they picked you up. Pete and Remus made their way to my place by themselves. I went to pick up Lily. The eight of us… that's all we have."

Frank shook his head. "That's not good enough. We'll all die, James. That was an _army_ back there. I'm all for the adventure, or the fun of it, or whatever you think the appeal is to fighting a whole army, but I also don't want to die. I'm calling this off. We're reporting to Dumbledore and letting the adults handle this."

James opened his mouth again and Lily placed a hand on his shoulder. "He's right, Potter. We're all eager to get our hands dirty and do our part, but today's just not the day. We'll have other chances."

James looked torn, glanced at Sirius. The two shared a look that Remus had seen many times. Whatever James would do, Sirius would do with him. The purest form of unconditional support. Seeing that look, despite knowing how dumb this was, how dangerous, how irresponsible, Remus felt the words leap from his mouth. "I'm with you, James," he said quietly. "Say the word, and I'm all in. We'll do this." James gazed at him and for the first time, Remus shared that same look with James, and his heart grew full. This was what it felt like.

Beside him, legs quivering but his face set, Peter spoke up as well. "I'm- I'm in too, James. You can count on me."

James looked at his three friends, his eyes full of a profound emotion that Remus couldn't capture with words, and then looked at the others, at Frank and Marlene's disapproving frowns, at Alice, her hands clasped and her face pleading … and at Lily's expressionless gaze. There was something in Lily's eyes, too, that Remus couldn't quite place. She and James shared a look for a few seconds, before James turned back, his eyes closed, and he sighed. "No. They're right, this is dangerous. I'm not putting your lives in danger."

Frank let out a breath and shook his head in relief, clapping James on the shoulder. "Good man. That's the right choice." They started down the street again, breathing easier. "Now let's get out of here."

They turned the corner and walked into two masked figures in black robes - the garbs of Death Eaters. Their cold masks leered and the teens stumbled back, walked right into two more Death Eaters behind them, having sneaked up without any of them noticing.

One of the figures in front chuckled lightly. "Where are you going, kids?" He nodded behind them. "The party's _that _way."

James spoke, his voice controlled, devoid of the fear that Remus felt clutching at his chest. "Sorry, it's a Tuesday. I hate partying on a Tuesday."

"It's Friday," said a Death Eater behind them.

"It is? That's even worse. I make it a point to never party on a Friday."

"You're going to die," said the first Death Eater quietly. "All of you. You don't look nearly scared enough."

"Because we have you outnumbered," said Frank, his shoulders square, his eyes level with each of the Death Eaters'. "Eight to four."

The first Death Eater wagged a finger. "You are all children. We are trained _killers_, boy. Do not think these odds to be even."

"We accept your surrender," said James. The Death Eaters snorted, and James continued. "Face the wall, close your eyes, and count to ten. Those are our terms."

The first Death Eater shook his head and stepped forward, eyes on James. "I'll kill this one first, I think."

James snarled, fingers curling around the wand in his back pocket. "Come get it."

They both pulled their wands out in a flash just as two figures dropped down from the roof above, each one flattening two Death Eaters between them. A stunning spell, a binding spell, a jinx and a hex, and the four Death Eaters stayed on the ground, unmoving. Caradoc Dearborn and Professor Windstrum looked up at the eight stunned teenagers, amusement dancing in both their eyes.

"What a small world," said Windstrum. "I can't go anywhere without running into my students."

Caradoc crossed his arms. "What business could you lot possibly have in the Czech Republic?"

"Where exactly is the Czech Republic?" Peter whispered.

"Eastern Europe," said Frank smugly, looking at James. James shook his head at the Head Boy.

"The same as you two, I imagine," said Remus, smiling at the two men wryly. "Nice to see you again, by the way, Caradoc."

"Remus!" Caradoc beamed at him and clapped him on the shoulder. Footsteps approached from around the corner and the two men straightened and looked at the teens quickly. "Link up," said Caradoc. "Let's go."

The ten of them quickly held hands. The moment they were all connected, they apparated. Remus felt space crush him and pull at him and chew him and spit him back out, and his feet hit the ground again. People rushed around him. He turned on the spot, taking in his new surroundings. It was a house. Thin corridors, peeling wallpaper, dusty chandeliers. The people walking about were hurried, their expressions serious and occupied. "Where are we?" he asked. Caradoc and Windstrum started walking, and the teens followed along, being led down the corridors.

"I'm assuming," said Windstrum, "that Frank has relayed to the rest of you the situation at the Ministry right now?" They all nodded and he continued, greeting a few people that passed as he walked. "In short, the Ministry is frozen. Morgan Bulstrode is in charge, and he's probably a Death Eater. Eamon Fawcett, also probably a Death Eater, is Head of the Auror Department. So we can't go to official bodies of power for help. That's why we've amassed here a collection of people we trust and who want to help us. Unofficially, of course." The two men stopped in front of an open door and beckoned the teens in. It was a small room, no decorations or furniture apart from a cluttered desk. At the desk sat a heavily scarred, grizzly haired man with glinting dark eyes.

Alastor Moody surveyed the eight teens before him, and his lip curled. Whether or not that was a good thing, Remus couldn't tell. When the man spoke in the growling voice of a warrior, everyone listened. "You lot are exceptionally thick for involving yourselves in all this. I hope you know that." The teens hesitated and looked at each other, not knowing what to say. James looked like he might say something along the lines of _Yes, we do know that_, but Moody shook his head and raised a hand before the messy haired boy could start. "In any case, welcome. We still need a name for what this all is, but essentially you are looking at our very own Ministry of Magic." Some rats scurried into a hole in the wall, and a piece of timber fell from the ceiling and hit the ground.


	17. Trap

The eight Gryffindors stared, not quite sure what to say, and Moody seemed content to stare back at them. The room was damp, James noticed. It smelled like a storage cupboard.

"You lot don't seem very impressed," said Caradoc from behind them.

"We just saw an army of Death Eaters," Marlene said slowly. "An army, sir."

"Please, call me Caradoc."

"An _army_."

"Yes, I think I've got it."

"You're forgetting, Marlene" said Professor Windstrum, "that we have an army of our own. What we've got here, all the talented people we've gathered, this very headquarters, it's all just as impressive as an army." A stray rat was nibbling on the side of his shoe, but he ignored it.

"Headquarters," Lily repeated. "Professor, where are we? The town we just came from, you said it was in the Czech Republic? Are we still in the Czech Republic?"

Windstrum inclined his head. "Yes. There is a lot going on here that the eight of you are not yet privy to, a lot to catch you all up on." He nodded to Moody. "Alastor will explain it."

Moody growled and stood, moving his desk an inch forward as he did so. "Like hell I will. You're their teacher, aren't you? Teach. I want lunch." He left the room, clapping the young teacher's back on his way out. Windstrum sighed and took Moody's seat, folding his arms on the desk as he grimaced at his students.

"I should go, too," Caradoc tried.

"You're staying."

"But I don't even _know_ these kids."

Windstrum fixed him with a look. "You've met Frank and Remus. I dare say you can recognize a Potter and a Black from miles away. This is Marlene McKinnon."

"Your mum's sister-in-law's husband is my mum's brother," said Marlene, smiling at Caradoc. "We've met."

"We have?"

"It was brief."

Caradoc shook his head in wonder. "Purebloods."

Marlene snorted lightly and rolled her eyes in agreement. "Purebloods."

"Next," said Windstrum, "we have Alice Prewett, the blonde haired girl standing next to Marlene."

Caradoc nodded and smiled at Alice. "All the Prewetts I've met have been delightful people. It's a pleasure."

She smiled back. "Likewise."

"Moving along," said Windstrum, sounding impatient, "there's Peter Pettigrew, hiding behind Mr Black."

"Hi," said Peter, leaning out awkwardly.

"How are you, Peter?"

"Good."

Windstrum waited a moment to see if the conversation would go any further, then shook his head and continued. "And finally, Lily Evans. Brightest witch in her year."

"In the school," James corrected. Lily smiled at him, a genuine, pleased smile that she'd been sending him a lot more of recently. It lit him up inside and he felt a rush, felt his own grin balloon uncontrollably.

"Lily," said Caradoc. "Dumbledore speaks of you most highly."

Lily opened her mouth and Windstrum cut in. "Yes, yes, they're all great. Now, to business. The Death Eaters have gathered in a town called Prázdný."

"Called _what_?" asked Sirius.

"Prázdný." Windstrum looked at Caradoc. "Prázdný?"

"Don't look at me, I don't know."

"We've yet to hear someone say it properly," Windstrum admitted. "So bear with us."

"Praz-de-nee," Remus offered.

"Maybe. It doesn't matter. We just know it was a Muggle town. Quiet. Peaceful." Windstrum ran a hand through his hair. "The Death Eaters arrived last night and slaughtered every last Muggle in the town. Men, women, children. It took them ten minutes."

James stiffened. Alice clapped a hand over her mouth. The others muttered to themselves darkly. "Why?" asked Frank, his voice stiff.

Windstrum took out a rolled up piece of paper and unfurled it on the desk. The teens crowded in to look. It was a map. He pointed to a corner at the top of the Czech Republic. "This area is near the border to both Germany and Poland. Voldemort has been unable to claim significant territory _anywhere_ yet, not in England, Ireland, not even in Scotland."

"What's wrong with Scotland?" Lily whispered.

"Clearly," Windstrum continued, "Voldemort's decided the best place to start is here."

"Won't the Czech Ministry do anything?" Alice asked.

"The Czech Republic doesn't have a Ministry," Caradoc pointed out, scratching his head as he joined the conversation. "It doesn't have a magical community. Not even a magical street. It's as good a place for Voldemort to start as any. And if it gives him a foothold near _Germany _of all places, that's all the better for him."

"Now, Prázdný is one of five towns in the area," said Windstrum. There were five circles drawn on the map, between the small bit of Czech area that bordered both Germany and Poland. Four of the circles formed a square, or close to. The fifth was in the middle. "Prázdný is here," he said, tapping the circle at the bottom of the square. "But what they really want is here." He tapped the middle circle. "Síla. If you control Síla, you control the other four, and therefore the whole area. We believe Síla is their next target."

James folded his arms. "How do you guys know all this?"

"It's sort of my job," said Caradoc. "I'm a spy for Dumbledore. I spend a lot of time with the Death Eaters."

"Fun."

"So much fun," Caradoc agreed.

"So what's the plan, then?" asked Frank. "Their target is Síla. So we defend it, right?"

Windstrum wrinkled his nose. "It's not that simple."

"They're Muggles," said Caradoc. "The whole town. We can't just turn it into a battlefield."

"So we raid Prázdný and arrest all the Death Eaters before they can even approach Síla," said James. "Right?"

"No," said Windstrum. "We want to avoid a full fledged battle if we can."

"Why?"

"If it comes to a battle, they use killing curses. We don't. Strategically, that very much puts us on the backfoot. Now, you haven't gotten a good look at all of us yet, but there are only perhaps twenty people here. You have no idea how difficult it is to find twenty trustworthy, capable people willing to work outside the Ministry."

"We're not being paid for this," Caradoc pointed out. Windstrum looked at him and Caradoc stared at a spot on the ceiling.

"Indeed," said Windstrum, looking back at the teens. "If we can avoid losing good people, we'd certainly like to."

"Then… what's the plan?" asked Lily.

Windstrum smiled. "We lay a trap."

"Knock knock." They turned to the door. A man with short blond hair and a neatly trimmed beard stood there. He had an exquisitely embroidered cloak, and carried that shoulders back, chin up air of authority. He smiled. "Hello, all."

"Ah, Sawyer," said Windstrum, brightening. "My dear students, meet Sawyer Hughes, Minister of Magic!"

"I am not the Minister of Magic."

"As good as."

"No."

Windstrum turned to the teens. "The voting process is ongoing, but he's pretty much won already."

"Pretty much winning is a far cry from actually winning, Anton. The vote could go on for months on end - in fact it probably will, at this rate."

"Sawyer is the Head of Magical Law Enforcement," Caradoc told the teens, stepping forward to shake the man's hand roughly and grinning. "As far as we're concerned, here at the _unofficial_ Ministry of Magic-

"That name is not final," said Sawyer.

"-he's the closest to a Minister we have. This is our leader."

"Not Dumbledore?" asked Lily.

Caradoc hesitated. "This is our leader after Dumbledore."

"Where is Dumbledore, anyway?" Alice piped up. "Will he be helping us?"

Sawyer grimaced and rubbed his chin. "It's complicated. Like you just demonstrated, regardless of who the Minister is, Dumbledore will always be seen as the one in charge. That is dangerous. It could put the ministerial power structure in an imbalance, taking authority away from the Minister, whoever it is, while essentially turning the school Headmaster into a dictator. Not to mention this whole election process nonsense - I need as many votes as I can get, while making sure not to feed any dissenters. We're trying to broadcast to everyone that _Bulstrode _and_ Fawley_ are the bad guys, while we're good. Dumbledore and I agreed that he should sit this one out."

The young Gryffindors weren't sure what to make of this. "You don't think we'll need him?" asked Sirius.

"I do not," said Sawyer. "The plan is good."

"Yes, the plan," said Windstrum, remembering their conversation before Sawyer had arrived. "We've laid a trap for the Death Eaters. That brings me to where exactly this house lies, actually. Let's step outside, shall we?"

They followed him from the room, out into the hallway, and walked round corners and bends until they reached the front door. Windstrum held it open for them, and the group filtered out of the house. The fading sunlight of the evening was having its last hurrah in the sky, and the darkness waited patiently behind it, still tapping it on the shoulder to ask for a turn. It was chilly out. The ground was covered in snow, much like it had been in London, but the snow here was white. Pure white, devoid of the stomping of work boots and coating of grime, the muck and the filth that mankind brought with it to all places, like an uninvited houseguest. The snow was too white.

James walked further from the house and looked around. None of the snow on the ground was touched, white as could be, spreading out along the ground from house to house, street to street, all over this town that James found himself in. The houses were almost identical to the one he'd just stepped out of, the streets devoid of any other signs of life. He frowned. "Professor, what's going on here?"

Caradoc answered instead, beaming. "Isn't it great? This town you see in front of you? Just ten hours ago, it didn't even _exist_. It was all just snow here."

"We built it," said Sawyer, his hands in his pockets. "It all came from magic, every bit of it. None of us are very gifted in architecture, mind, so it's mostly crude and repetitive. But it will do the job."

Frank frowned. "The job?"

"The trap," said Windstrum. "This is it. We built this halfway between Prázdný and Síla. When the Death Eaters start their march on Síla, they'll walk right into the trap, where we'll be waiting."

"I'll be marching with them," said Caradoc. "I told Lestrange that I want to be more involved with these sorts of things. That's the only reason we even know about all this happening. I'll lead the Death Eaters right into the trap, and we'll capture the whole lot of them."

"The rest of us will act like Muggles," Sawyer told them. "The Death Eaters will come in expecting no resistance from twenty odd harmless Muggles, and we'll turn right around and engage them in battle. Only, we'll have won before they even get the chance to fight back. The element of surprise will end the fight before it starts."

"What about us?" asked Remus. "Most of us are under-age. Will we get done in for under-age magic?"

Sawyer snorted. "Remus, mate, I'm the Head of Magical Law Enforcement. You have my permission to do whatever the hell you want."

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Caradoc's job had sounded easy. Lead the Death Eaters into the trap. Simple, uncomplicated, not asking a lot from him.

Wrong.

Firstly, he couldn't just lead the Death Eaters anywhere. He wasn't their leader. He wasn't even very important to them. They didn't invite him to any of the special meetings. He always felt mightily out of place among them, like a child on their first day at a new school. Granted, that could likely be attributed to Caradoc not sharing their murderous tendencies, but still. Everyone wants to feel like they belong.

So Caradoc walked near the front of the pack, marching alongside all the big names. Rodolphus Lestrange, Lucious Malfoy, Walden Macnair, Crabbe, Karkaroff, Wilkes, Selwyn, it was enough to make the Auror in Caradoc want to scream.

Most of those names walked in front of him, which led to Caradoc's second problem. How could he lead them if he wasn't even at the front? The trap was placed right between Prázdný and Síla, true, so it would be hard for them to miss it, but there was more to it than that. If they approached the make-believe town from any angle other than head on, it wouldn't look like a town full of people at all. It would look instead like a mostly empty town, except for the entrance, where an assortment of 'Muggles' congregated suspiciously in what was most definitely a trap. So every now and then, Caradoc would have to nudge those around him a certain way, maybe point, use his body language, to keep those in front on track as subtly as possible. It was night by then, and dark. They all lit the way by wandlight. Caradoc wondered if they looked like a church choir from a distance, marching with their candles and little song books.

Caradoc sighed and gently nudged a few people to the right. Even considering that it was dark, it turned out that Rodolphus Lestrange was remarkably bad at walking in a straight line.

All of it, however, paled in comparison to his biggest problem. Marching beside him, silent, deadly, was a man Caradoc had seen a handful of times now. His skin was dark, his expression always neutral, his eyes covered by aviator sunglasses. The man wore a yellow and white pinstriped suit this time, tailored to perfection, and marched with such a swagger that Caradoc felt uncoordinated just from watching him.

Taureau Barkley, the man's name was. Caradoc had learned this shortly after he'd apparated from the make-believe trap-town back to Prázdný, his heart stopping when he'd seen the man. This man was responsible for the death of Eugenia Jenkins. He was involved somehow with Emmett Fawley, Minister candidate and Head of the Auror Department. Bringing Taureau Barkley in would lead to proving Fawley to be the Ministry spy known as Blithe, allowing them to finally expose Blithe, a task which had been the only thing on Caradoc's mind for months on end. And the key to it all was walking next to him. With a swagger.

"We've met," said the man, noticing Caradoc's stare. His voice was deep and smooth. "I remember you."

Caradoc nodded. "We fought. On the night you killed Cassus Lucio."

"If you would call that a fight."

"Yes, well, I was undercover. I wasn't trying to win."

"Yet I recall you getting back up each time I knocked you down."

"I had to sell it, didn't I?"

"Did you?"

"Yes," said Caradoc tightly. They were quiet for a few strides, before he couldn't resist adding, "And you caught me by surprise with that first shot."

The man made a noise but didn't respond. Caradoc let the silence sit for a while. The fake Síla town was visible in the distance, but only barely, only as a silhouette in the wandlight. Still, it meant they were on track. Caradoc looked at the man again. "You accepted quite quickly that I'm a spy on Dumbledore and his lot, you know. I was half expecting you to attack me, when I apparated back into town earlier." Taureau Barkley said nothing, so Caradoc pressed on. "I'm an Auror. That's why Rodolphus brought me on board. I can leak information straight from the department to keep us two steps ahead of that lot. Have to do it without alerting _Emmett Fawley_, though." Caradoc had to stop himself from crossing his fingers, begging the quiet man to say something incriminating of Fawley. Caradoc was a Death Eater as far as the man knew, after all. Why wouldn't he let him in on the secret?

An emotion flickered across the man's face before it was snatched away. "That must be so hard for you," he said eventually.

Caradoc cursed inwardly, but didn't show his frustration. "It is." They were quiet once more, and again Caradoc felt compelled to break the silence. He couldn't let this opportunity pass, not while the elusive man walked right next to him. "I've never seen you around at meetings or anything, you know. What exactly do you do, if you don't mind me asking?"

The look the man gave him told Caradoc that he did indeed mind him asking. "You wouldn't see me at your meetings, Death Eater. I am not one of you."

"Then what are you?"

"The kind of person who does not trumpet his own information to anyone who asks."

Caradoc smirked. "I'm sorry, am I annoying you, Taureau?"

"You may not call me that."

"Mr Barkley, then?"

"No."

"What would you have me call you, my good man?"

The man's jaw was clenching ever so slightly. "You need not call me anything."

"But I want to, still."

"You know," said the man suddenly, stopping and facing him suddenly, "you talk like one of them. One of Dumbledore's. Not like a Death Eater."

Caradoc stopped too. Some Death Eaters grumbled and passed around them. "I wouldn't be much of a spy if I did now, would I?"

"Perhaps not." The man seemed to be surveying him behind his aviator sunglasses. "But joviality is not something easily afforded to a Death Eater. A person whose job, whose very nature, incites murder and torture and hate."

"You're a murderer, too," Caradoc reminded him.

"And do I strike you as the joking type?" The man raised an eyebrow over his sunglasses, then started walking again. Caradoc joined him. "I am merely impressed. It is not easy to kill, even harder to do so in high spirits. I look forward to seeing how you accomplish that today."

Caradoc's throat dried, and he looked ahead. Suddenly, he wasn't too eager to keep the conversation going. He had gotten this far, lasted this long as a spy, without ever having to prove himself to these people. That might change today. His head clouded. While maintaining this act as a Death Eater, how long more could Caradoc expect to be a good person? After taking a life, perhaps, or even assisting in taking that life, what would really be separating Caradoc from the Death Eaters? Sure, he would likely have no choice in the matter. But would that be a good enough excuse for him, when the time came?

He shook his head and marched on. The fake town was much closer now. Close enough for Caradoc to see the figures walking about, as though it were just another normal night in Síla. Close enough, even, for Caradoc to make out the faces of Aurors like Harold Minchum and Alastor Moody, and the mostly concealed features of Alice Prewett and Anton Windstrum. Any moment now…

At the front of the procession, Rodolphus had stopped walking. He was swaying, as though unsteady on his feet. Immediately, Caradoc slipped on his Death Eater mask, charmed specially by Sawyer to protect him. Around him, the other Death Eaters slowed, their eyelids drooping and their heads bobbing. It was the work of Rainbow Dust, a compound the Irish Ministry had developed during the war with Grindelwald. Spread around the perimeter of Síla, the scentless gas dulled the senses, disorienting and slowing the mind. The Irish hadn't given it the name Rainbow Dust. That was a result of the rest of the world associating the country only with gold, rainbows, and green little leprechauns. And four-leaf clovers.

Caradoc watched as the entirety of the procession was slowly taken in by the compound, growing dazed and uneasy as they drew nearer to the town's edge. After only a few more seconds, the marching stopped entirely. Caradoc frowned suddenly, glanced around.

Taureau Barkley was nowhere to be seen.

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The trap was sprung, and Lily and the others threw off their disguises and charged from the feeble excuse of a town, straight towards the wobbling mass of Death Eaters. The twenty odd band of pretend Muggles drew their wands and got straight to business, stunning and restraining the small army without wasting any time - they couldn't be sure how much of it they had.

An unpleasant looking man with unfocused eyes was Lily's first target. She bound him with ropes simply and moved on to the next one. Beside her, Peter was doing a fine job of stunning a Death Eater, and then hesitantly bashing him in the face after his stunning spell didn't prove strong enough. Lily moved on to the next one, and the next one, cutting down the black robed figures left and right. The adults were going at an even quicker pace. Some of the Aurors worked so efficiently at incapacitating their foes that Lily almost wondered if she was even doing it right. She punched every odd one in the face, just to remind herself that she was.

"Nice technique, Evans!" James appeared by her side, grinning his stupid grin. "Maybe put more hips into the next one. Like this!" He swung his fist into the face of a Death Eater on his right, and a tooth went flying.

"Potter," she reprimanded, imitating his punch at a wide-mouthed Death Eater by his side and knocking her target to the ground, "violence is never the answer!"

"It is sometimes." With a flick of his wand James hoisted a Death Eater into the air and dropped him down on his head. "Remember when Joe Shingle asked you out in Fourth Year? And I decked him in the face?"

"Yes," she snapped, stunning a looming Death Eater before her. "That was an entirely unnecessary and inappropriate reaction, Potter. I didn't think it was funny then, and I don't now."

"He called you a bitch," James said matter-of-factly, flinging a Death Eater back with a flourish of his wand. "He was talking about you to his friends after you rejected him. I heard it, tapped him on the shoulder, and gave him what for."

She paused briefly, reassuring herself that James couldn't possibly know how much her heart was swelling, and smiled lightly at him before throwing a body-bind curse on a dumb looking man with bad teeth. "Well then. I suppose sometimes, violence might be the answer."

He grinned. "A girl after my own heart."

She smiled to herself. He didn't even know the half of it.

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It was past the fake town, far along the path to the real Síla, that Caradoc caught up to him. Taureau Barkley turned on the narrow path and watched Caradoc approach. Six Death Eaters flanked the man. None of them were significant or memorable.

"It was a trap," said the man.

"Yeah." Caradoc pulled his mask off and stopped before them. "I noticed in time."

"We were at the front of the party." The man turned, started walking again. Caradoc and the others followed behind as he continued. "We were the most exposed to whatever it was that was in the air. I myself have been made immune to most toxins." Of course, Caradoc thought to himself sourly. "These six were near the back of our congregation, the least exposed to the poisoned air. I wonder, though, how _you_ managed to avoid the trap, ah…"

"Caradoc."

"Caradoc. How did you do it?"

"I held my breath."

"Before you even knew there was a trap?"

"Yep." The man looked back at him, but Caradoc couldn't make much out what with the darkness and those damned aviator sunglasses, but he recognized doubt in the air. "It was Rainbow Dust," Caradoc said eventually. "I recognized the scent, pieced together what was going on."

"You are familiar with the scent of Rainbow dust? As far as I am aware, it is very rare."

Caradoc shrugged. "My line of work takes me many places."

The other Death Eaters said nothing in all this, and Caradoc had to wonder what they made of the exchange between the two. Who did they trust more? Who did they believe?

"What's the plan, then?" Caradoc asked once the silence pressed down too hard. "Eight of us left. What do you propose we do?"

"We do our job." The man glanced again at Caradoc. "We came here to take Síla. I'm sure eight trained killers are more than enough to take out a town of Muggles in the middle of the night. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Yep," said Caradoc uneasily. "I sure am glad you're such a quick thinker."

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The Death Eaters near the back were the ones to recover first, and suddenly the fight became much more two sided. Remus found himself on the backfoot quite quickly. Green jets of light started shooting through the air as more and more Death Eaters joined the fight, and soon it was almost an even match between the two sides. Almost. As great as the Death Eaters' numbers were, they didn't have an Alastor Moody. The man truly was a warrior, diving into the throng of robed figures with a snarl and felling any that dared to stand in his line of sight.

"I broke up with Amelia," said Frank.

Remus turned to tell him he didn't care, but saw that the Head Boy was talking to Alice.

"I heard," she said, ducking under a flying spell. "It was weeks ago."

"Still," said Frank. "I haven't gotten a chance to talk to you about it yet."

"What's there to say? I know you've liked me for a long time, Frank. And now, I reckon I like you too. _Like_ like."

"But it's more complicated than that," Frank insisted. "You're my best friend, Alice. I don't want to lose-"

Remus shoved him out of the path of a green jet of light and fixed them both with a look. "Is now really the best time?"

Frank looked awkward, but Alice was unabashed. Merlin, what had James done to that girl?

"We taking a break?" called Sirius, as he joined them with Marlene a step behind him. Both were flushed and grinning happily. Were it not the middle of a battlefield, Remus would have assumed they'd been getting up to some 'mischief', as Sirius would call it, with their tousled hair and heaving chests. The evidence to the contrary was a sheen of sweat on their foreheads, their wands at the ready.

"No," Remus asserted. "We were just about to get back into it."

Windstrum came rushing by, looking at the teens incredulously. "What do you think this is, the Common Room? We're at _war_! Quit standing around!"

With a sigh, Remus turned away from the others and sent a jelly-legs curse at a running Death Eater, who tripped and fell on his face. Why did he have to be the only one of his friends with his head screwed on right?

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Síla was a quiet, still town in the dead of night. The Death Eaters stood in the main street and looked around, seeming to be making their minds up on where to start killing. Taureau Barkley lifted a finger and pointed at a barn sitting at the end of the street, near the edge of town. "There. We'll start there."

The barn was dark. Caradoc watched him rummage around by the wall, and a gas lamp lit up, illuminating the place. There were piles of hay but no animals. It smelled like the tranquility of farm life.

"Go fetch us our generous hosts," the man instructed the Death Eaters, pointing to a wooden door by the far wall that no doubt led to the house adjoining the cozy little barn. When just the two of them were left, he looked at Caradoc. "Excited?"

Caradoc smiled, trying to make sure it reached his eyes. "Of course. I've been itching for some fun all day."

"Good. You'll have plenty quite shortly."

"Why are you doing this?" Caradoc asked before he could stop himself. "You say you aren't a Death Eater. Why go out of your way to kill Muggles with the rest of us?"

Whenever the man looked at him, Caradoc felt like he was being evaluated. He met the gaze of those dark glasses unflinchingly. "I have my orders," the man said, "the same as you Death Eaters have yours."

"And who gives you those orders, I wonder?"

The man didn't move, not even a muscle, but somehow he was looking a little more looming, threatening. Caradoc wondered what the man would do if he reached for his wand.

He was saved from finding out by the Death Eaters returning to the barn, prodding along three Muggles before them. The Muggles were in their pyjamas, looking terrified. Two women, and an elderly man. They stumbled and shuffled ahead of the Death Eaters, hands shaking slightly, and with a flick of one of the Death Eaters' wands they all dropped down and rested against a small bundle of hay.

"Are these the folks who we have so rudely intruded upon?" Taureau Barkley asked.

The Death Eater pointing his wand at the Muggles responded. "Yeah. They were sleeping, but they got up all in a hurry to _welcome_ us." The others sniggered behind him.

"Anyone else in the house?"

"Well, they had a dog, too. A big one, but don't worry. I killed the brute."

The man regarded the Death Eater, ignoring the Muggles' soft crying. His voice dripped with disdain. "Why?"

The Death Eater shrugged. "Just to warm up a bit, you know?"

After a few seconds, the man turned, acting like the Death Eater wasn't there anymore, and looked at the Muggles. He pulled out his wand. "We're going to kill you," he said softly. Their crying grew louder. The elderly man made a feeble attempt to put his arm in front of the two women, pushing himself before them. "That will not save anyone, I'm afraid," said the man. "I'm going to let you in on a huge secret. We're _wizards_. We have _magic_."

As if to demonstrate, a Death Eater behind him levitated a bundle of hay, leering stupidly in a clumsy show of power. To the Muggles, it was terrifying. Caradoc saw their eyes follow the bundle of hay, widening, filling with fear, then tracing back to the Death Eater's raised wand, and staying there.

"Do not consider yourselves unfortunate," the dark skinned man said. "We are going to kill everyone in town, after all. Not just you three." This didn't seem to make them feel better, but the man didn't seem to care all that much. "Before that, though, I want to see something. Caradoc?"

"Yes?" Caradoc's voice cracked slightly, but the man didn't acknowledge it.

"Come over here, if you please. I think we'll let you do the honors." Caradoc walked slowly to stand before the Muggles, and stopped, starting to freeze up. "Go on, start us off. The old-timer seems a bit keen, don't you think? Kill him first."

A Death Eater protested. "How come_ he_ gets to-"

Caradoc didn't turn to see, but he assumed Taureau Barkley silenced the Death Eater with a look.

There was a reasonable, smart voice in Caradoc's head telling him that he didn't have a choice. No one would be able to blame him. The two women were quivering, their cheeks wet with tears. The elderly man had stopped crying and was still. He stared into Caradoc's eyes, and on those lined features he saw resignation. What more could there be, faced with magic and wizards and imminent death?

Caradoc looked hard into those eyes. It wasn't, however, because he was looking for something profound in them. He wasn't going to kill the man. He never was. Instead, staring into the old man's eyes, he found the reflections of the seven enemies standing behind him. No wands drawn. Faces relaxed. Caradoc slowly lifted his wand, pointed it at the Muggles, his hand deadly still. Fear found only at wand-point joined the resignation in the elderly man's eyes, and the voice in Caradoc's head told him his plan was stupid, and reckless, and not to do it. That's what it all came down to, Caradoc reckoned, as he tuned out the voice and focussed his mind. Simply tuning the voice out that tried to claim there was no choice, that urged him to take the easier path, _that's_ where the line could be drawn between a Death Eater and himself. Good and evil, as it were. As far as Caradoc was concerned, there was always a choice.

He whirled around and stunned the first Death Eater. The rest jerked and reached for their wands and he heard Taureau Barkley laugh but didn't pay attention. He whirled, flicking his wand to bind the second Death Eater in thick ropes, and when the third reared up beside him Caradoc crunched a fist into his nose and he dropped. Jets of light shot at him now and he dove towards the fourth Death Eater, rolled, and when he sprung up he grabbed the Death Eater's wand arm, pushed it away, and turned him round. With this struggling new shield in front of him, he looked at his three remaining enemies.

A blue jet of lit left Taureau Barkley's wand and hit the Death Eater, whose head lolled back. The body went limp, but Caradoc held him up by the scruff of his neck and charged. He threw the unconscious man at the feet of the next Death Eater and cast a full-body-bind curse, felling his foe. The last Death Eater ran at Caradoc, and a simple stunning spell flung the robed figure back against the wall. He hit the ground and was still.

The last two standing, Taureau Barkley squared his shoulders and smiled at Caradoc, like he was deeply amused that it was just the two of them now. They started circling.

"What's so funny?" Caradoc asked.

"I am simply remembering the last time we fought. You had two friends, then, and you still could not beat me. What could you possibly hope to do now?"

"Things have changed," Caradoc said quietly, not letting his eyes leave the man's face for even a moment. He couldn't see the eyes, covered as they were by those blasted aviator sunglasses. He wondered if that was why he wore them - to give him an edge in these exact situations.

"What exactly has changed, pray tell?" asked the man.

Caradoc steeled himself. "This time," he said, coming to a stop, "I'm angry." His stunning spell careened towards his foe, and the man raised a shield charm in time.

Caradoc waved his wand, and three bails of hay behind the man crashed into his back. The man stumbled, eyes widening, and Caradoc seized the opportunity.

"Stupefy!"

At the last moment before the jet of light hit him, the man's wand flicked, and it was like a bomb had gone off in the barn. White light filled the air. Caradoc went flying back, hit a wooden wall, fell to the ground. His ears were ringing. His vision blurred. Squinting, blinking quickly, Caradoc saw the man leaning against the opposite wall, dazed. They had both been thrown by the spell.

Painstakingly, Caradoc got to his feet. His wand was still in his hand. Good. He put one foot in front of the other, the commands from his brain barely reaching his limbs in time, and he ambled towards his opponent. The man jerked his arm and blue light streaked past Caradoc's head, but Caradoc ignored it, raised his own wand. "Stupefy!"

The man's wand waved like a cricket bat and the spell went was flung aside somehow, the streak of light rushing harmlessly into one of the wooden walls instead. Caradoc pressed on, throwing a string of hexes at the man who, from the ground, dodged and shielded and redirected each dangerous spell with heavy concentration on his face. When Caradoc unwittingly got close enough, the man sprung forwards and tackled him to the ground. Caradoc's head hit the ground first, rocking his equilibrium. A wand blurred in front of him. Caradoc reached up, grabbed the wand hand and twisted. A short jet of light sizzled into the ground beside Caradoc's head. The man grunted, and with his other hand he punched Caradoc full in the face. There was a crack, Caradoc's head spun, and blood burst up and onto his face. He knew his nose was broken. His eyes filled with tears. Another punch, glancing off Caradoc's cheek. He was going to pass out.

Closing his eyes against the tears, he adjusted his grip on the man's wand hand and twisted more. Caradoc rolled them both on the ground until he was on top of his opponent, and he opened his eyes blearily. The man's wand arm was strong, and they both wrestled for control of the wand. With his other hand, the man wrapped his fingers around Caradoc's throat and squeezed. Caradoc gagged, used his last reserves of strength and his other arm to grab the man's wand hand and push it towards his opponent's snarling face. With a two handed grip, he slowly overpowered that absurdly strong arm. Lights danced in front of Caradoc's eyes. With each moment of grappling, he lost more oxygen, and his limbs grew weaker. He wouldn't last much longer. The wand finally rested against the man's temple. The man's grip of the wand loosened briefly, and in that moment, both hands on the wand, Caradoc cast the last spell nonverbally.

_Stupefy._

The man jerked, head banging against the ground. The hand loosened around his throat, and Caradoc gasped for air, rolling to the side and sucking in deep lung fulls. After some moments, he looked at the man, who was groaning on the ground. Caradoc found his wand, lost in the struggle, and touched it to the man's temple. "Obliviate." Taureau Barkley couldn't know that Caradoc had turned on him. He went around to the rest of the Death Eaters and did the same. He heard a whimper suddenly and whirled.

The Muggles, cowering in the corner, were staring at him.

He'd forgotten about them completely. He took a step forward and the three of them flinched. "I'm not going to hurt you," he said quietly. "If you can understand me, the spell I will use will cause no harm. I only want to clear your memories of what has transpired here." The fear in their eyes didn't change, and he sighed. "Whatever. _Obliviate_." Their faces went slack, their eyes unfocused. "And I'm sorry about your dog."

As he left the barn, with seven Death Eaters and Taureau Barkley bound, gagged, and levitating along behind him, Caradoc glanced around at Síla. An entire town of people saved, and they would never even know it. With a sigh and a wince, Caradoc apparated from the town, taking his captives along with him. Being a spy was hard, Caradoc thought to himself for the upteenth time that day. But he reckoned he did a decent job of it.

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With all said and done, there were about twenty captured Death Eaters that day. The rest had come to their senses and run, with Moody and some others hot on their heels. Síla, the real Síla, had gone untouched. It was the first decisive victory against the Death Eaters, and there had been no casualties. Not one. Sawyer had seemed chuffed about that.

Lily spied James sitting on a wall at the edge of the fake town, gazing out at where they had all been battling mere hours ago. He looked at her as she approached him, his lips curving upward. That always happened when he looked at her. It made Lily happy.

"Alright, Evans?"

"Not bad, Potter." She hopped up on the wall beside him. "Busy night, right?"

He snorted, nodded at the horizon. "Morning."

"Oh! Do you know what that means?"

"We haven't slept?"

"It's Christmas Eve now, Potter. Happy Christmas Eve!"

He squinted at her. "Okay, first of all, it's the _morning_ of what will eventually be Christmas Eve. I'm pretty sure for it to actually be Christmas Eve, it has to be, oh, I don't know, an actual _eve_? As in the _evening_?"

"Happy Christmas Eve, Potter."

"And secondly, who celebrates Christmas Eve? Of all days? Who looks forward to Christmas Eve, wakes up in the morning and says to themselves, 'Oh my goodness, it's Christmas Eve, I need to wish everyone'?"

"Me," she said simply.

He shook his head. "You're weird. Your obsession with Christmas is unhealthy, you know. I need you to know that."

"I do."

"But you simply don't care."

"I don't."

He nodded. "As long as you know, then."

James hopped off the wall, started walking into the fake town. Lily felt like sitting, but the urge to turn and call out to him seized her suddenly. "Potter." He looked back, eyebrows raised. His lips curved upwards at her and Lily smiled. "I just thought I'd let you know," she said, "if someone called you a bitch, I'd punch them too."

A million things flashed in his eyes over a split-second, and Lily thought she recognized a glimmer of hesitant hope among them. He tilted his head. Seeming to settle on amused, he grinned at her. "Thanks, Evans."

She nodded, and turned back to watch the sunlight crack the night sky open like an egg, bright yolk bleeding into the darkness.


	18. A Christmas Prison-break

On Christmas Day, the sun rose at eight in the morning. As far as Lily was concerned, it was long overdue. She had gotten up at five, bright-eyed and wide-grinned, and shaken Marlene awake.

"You're not my best friend until at least nine," Marlene had mumbled, before rolling over in a huff and drifting back off to sleep.

Slightly offended but with her spirits still intact, Lily had raced from her friend's room and danced about the long hallways to an imaginary tune. Marlene's house was the typical Pure-blood abode, with high ceilings, fancy ornaments, portraits of long-dead relatives, and a rich history about the place. Not quite as grand as James' _manor _had been, but ridiculously big nonetheless. She smiled at the house-elves, avoided eye-contact with the more grumpy looking portraits, and steered clear of Marlene's parents' living quarters, as the middle-aged witch and wizard had made it quite clear to Lily over the years that they did not take well to being woken up early. It occurred to Lily that the trait might run in the family. She also longed to one day call her own bedroom a 'living quarters'. What a nice life that would be.

On the dot of nine, Lily shook Marlene awake again.

"You're not my best friend until t-"

"Nope," said Lily, pulling the covers off and drawing the blinds. "Happy Christmas, Mar!"

Light crashed into the room like a bowling ball through the window. Marlene screeched, really screeched, and covered her face with her hands, writhing about on the bed as though in immense pain.

"The weather is quite nice," Lily called over her friend's screeching. "I think you'll really like it."

"I hate the weather."

"Oh, come on," said Lily. "You haven't even gotten to know it yet."

Marlene gave her a filthy look and slowly sat up, straightening her top and scratching her head.

"Happy Christmas," Lily tried again.

Marlene made a sound through a closed mouth.

"What?"

"Hpy Chrstms."

"I'm sorry?"

Marlene sighed and stood, stretched. "Happy Christmas, Lily."

Lily beamed. "Thanks!" She held out a wrapped box in her hands. It was hand-wrapped, painstakingly so. Marlene took it and shredded the paper without a thought, making Lily wince a little before grinning widely again as the present emerged from its wrapping.

"Rock and Roll and Grindylows - Volume Two, by the Fortuna Majors," Marlene read aloud. She looked genuinely impressed. "How did you know I listen to the Majors? I'm sure I've never mentioned it before."

"Well, I wrote a letter to your mum, who directed me to your Auntie Tilda, the one you went to that Quidditch game with, and she told me your cousin Lucas buys you music, but when I tried to contact him I could only reach his ex-girlfriend Mindy, so I-"

"I love it," said Marlene. She pointed vaguely to her desk. "There's yours."

It wasn't wrapped, but Lily hardly cared. She picked up her present and smiled widely. A first edition copy of Bathilda Bagshot's, _Beauxbatons: A Less Rich But Still Impressive History_. The title had raised some eyebrows in the international community, and its clear bias towards Hogwarts had boosted its popularity and sales by no small margin. Copies were rare and Lily had been dying to read it. She looked at Marlene with a toothy smile and hugged her. "Oh, I love it, Mar! Thank you."

Marlene groaned, still rubbing her eyes, and patted Lily on the back. "Yes, yes, any time. Can we get breakfast now?"

"I've already eaten," Lily said. They left Marlene's room and started the treck through the hallways and corridors on their way to the dining hall. "But I can watch you eat, if you'd like."

Marlene sighed. "I'd forgotten what you get like at Christmas. It's only been a year, but somehow I'd forgotten. Must be a repressed memory."

Lily pretended not to hear her. "I'm looking forward to the party."

The other girl grimaced. "I told you, I wouldn't call it a party. All the Pure-blood families getting together to eat dainty, fancy little toothpick foods, showing off their expensive dress robes and jewellery, making connections and networking with other filthy rich people so they can laugh about how good they all have it - not a party, Lily."

"Well it sounds like a lot of fun. There's an orchestra, right?"

"Yeah."

"And dancing?"

"If you count the _waltz_."

"So food, music, dancing… any drinks?" Marlene nodded. "Well, that sounds like a party to me."

Her friend sighed. "Trust me, Lily. It is not a party."

They walked past the ballroom. House-elves bustled about, setting it up for the _party_. Caterers streamed in and out too, looking crazed and manic in their efforts to prepare the place, even though the party wouldn't actually start until evening. The ballroom was massive, and charms were put in before Lily's very eyes to make it even bigger, grander, more breathtaking and impressive, until it was fit to hold a king's banquet and still seem a tad much.

Marlene and Lily walked on and, despite herself, Lily's mind wandered. "Will every Pure-blood family be here?" she asked.

Marlene shrugged. "All the big ones. The Sacred Twenty-Eight, as they like to be called. Plenty of other important names too, that just aren't quite as pretentious, but every bit as ancient and respected. The Potters are a good example."

Lily's heart shuddered and roared to life, like a key had been turned in the ignition. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, they're the good sort. Although I'm sure you know that by now."

"What's that mean?"

Marlene rolled her eyes at Lily. "Come now, I know you have your grievances with James but you can't deny, he's a good guy. Even if you didn't think so a few years ago, which you were wrong about, these days he's especially good. I don't know how you don't see it, Lily. He does so much for others, he's matured, and he's almost never in trouble any more. Not to mention how much taller he's grown. And his physique has really set, too. Now that I'm on the team I can tell you, our exercises at practice are intense. And in the locker rooms? Merlin. He's pretty well-built, Lily."

Lily's imagination had been unruly enough as it was these days, running rampant with James and his wind swept hair and stupid grin. The last thing it needed was Marlene's very provocative description of the boy. It took her mind to sultry places, and she felt herself blushing. She spoke quickly before the silence grew too prolonged, hoping Marlene wouldn't look at her face. "He's an arrogant toe-rag."

"Not really. Certainly not anymore, at any rate. In fact, I reckon the two of you are quite similar." Lily scoffed and Marlene looked at her seriously. "Really, Lily. You're both hot-headed, you're great leaders, brilliant students, passionate, brave, caring - everyone respects and likes you. The two of you go together so seamlessly in everyone's minds. James and Lily, Lily and James. At this point, you're more alike than anyone else I know. No one suits you better than each other."

Lily stared. "Where did all that come from?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you sound like our biggest fan. I didn't know you cared so much."

Marlene snorted. "Wait 'till you hear Black go on about it. He's a hopeless romantic, as it turns out."

A coy smile reached Lily's face. "Is that right?"

"Yeah, he-" Marlene looked at her and rolled her eyes, quickening her step to try and leave Lily behind. "No. You are not turning this on me."

"Tell me more about how romantic Sirius Black is, Mar!"

"_Shut it, Lily_."

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Taureau Barkley sat still on the edge of his bed while the boat rocked to and fro. His body refused to give into momentum's urges to rock along with it. His prison cell didn't have much to offer the eyes, aside from his bed. A dirty sink, a hole in the ground, rust on his cell bars. There was a mirror on the wall, at least. From that, he found some way to pass the time.

He looked at his reflection, his dark skin, his sharp cheekbones, his deep black eyes that he'd trained to stay expressionless. His aviator sunglasses had been smashed. The prison guards had taken his pinstriped suit, replaced it with these prison rags, torn and essentially colorless, a grey and brown medley of filth.

From the cells around him, he heard clanging, frantic and desperate voices from his fellow prisoners. Once the boat reached Azkaban, they would never be free again. Of that there was no doubt in anyone's mind. They had until the boat reached land to escape, break out, and no way of knowing how much longer was left.

Taureau Barkley didn't join them in those futile attempts. He was not one to panic, nor to beg for and cling to freedom. If he was thrown in an Azkaban cell and left to rot, then so be it.

His mind wandered back to the circumstances of his capture. He remembered fighting, his opponent a blurry figure he couldn't quite put a name to, and he remembered a wand against his head before things went dark. He'd woken up in a cell much like this one, his only company a smattering of those crude and unpleasant Death Eaters. The fingers on Taureau Barkley's wand hand twitched, itching for a chance to let loose against his captor. He concentrated, trying to see in his mind's eye that blurry figure, trying to picture the face. He couldn't. A memory charm, no doubt. This only vexed him more. The thought that his opponent, after besting him in single combat, went as far as to alter his memory of the event was embarrassing, infuriating. Was he even remembering the events correctly? Did he really lose that fight? He had no way of knowing, and likely never would.

These thoughts occupied his mind for most of the boat ride. They cleared from his head at the sound of footsteps. Light and easy. Carefree. They stopped. A figure was standing at the bars of his cell, watching him from the other side. He didn't turn, kept looking into the mirror. After a few seconds, the figure spoke. "It's time to go."

He turned then, looked curiously at his employer. The man went by the name of Blithe, and Blithe smiled in at Taureau Barkley like they were good friends. They were not. "You're breaking me out?" Taureau Barkley asked.

"Yes," said Blithe, tapping his wand to the bars. His cell door sprang open. "I can't have you put in Azkaban. I understand you are a powerful Occlumens, but even the most headstrong and determined individual cannot stay that way after five minutes with a Dementor. The Ministry's Legilimens will crack you eventually, and that would be… unfortunate."

Taureau Barkley stood and walked out of his cell. He took the spare wand Blithe offered, tested its grip. "How gracious of you."

"I agree." Blithe started walking, clearly knowing he would follow. In the cells surrounding them, prisoners begged, pleaded, holding their arms through the bars with desperation leaking from their voices and faces. The two ignored them. "The easier option would have been to kill you, of course. But good help is getting increasingly difficult to come by. Instead, consider this an offer to renew your contract with me."

"And if I refuse?" There were a few seconds in which Blithe looked at him and said nothing, and after a moment Taureau Barkley nodded. "I accept." Blithe looked away, expressionless. They turned a corner, walking fast. "I suppose we should consider ourselves fortunate, though. What would you have done if they'd Floo'd me to Azkaban directly?"

"You think they have fireplaces in Azkaban?"

A snort. "Good point." They approached the next corner. "I must say, this is surprisingly easy. I know you're a big deal and all, but it is still rather impressive that you can just turn up and release a prisoner with no questions asked."

They turned the corner and two dead bodies lay spread-eagled on the ground. Guards, lifeless eyes, no spilled blood. Their faces were calm. They hadn't even known they were about to die before they'd been killed. Blithe didn't slow down, but gave a wry smile as they stepped over the bodies. "I ran into a few complications."

"I see that." Taureau Barkley held his wand a little higher from then on, ready and alert. They approached a set of stairs.

"These lead to the deck," said Blithe. "There should be about ten of them up there, raring for a fight."

"Wait," he said, frowning. "Why don't we just apparate?"

"If anyone could apparate on and off this _prison_ ship, what use would it be?"

"Well what's the plan, then? How are we supposed to get off this damn thing?"

"We jump."

"Excuse me?"

Blithe sounded impatient. "We jump off the ship. Anti-apparition is only active on the ship itself. If we jump off and apparate before we hit the water, we should be fine."

"Should?"

"We'll be fine."

Taureau Barkley wasn't so sure. "We might need another plan."

"Well we don't have one." Blithe started climbing the metal stairs, his footsteps clanging along behind him with each step, and with an inward groan Taureau Barkley followed. He didn't even bother trying to mask his own footsteps. If they were heard, then they were heard.

The two emerged onto the deck. It was dark, raining. Storm clouds roiled and tumbled into each other like fighting bulls. Each foamy wave of the restless, angry ocean rocked the boat as they slapped against the hull. Twelve prison guards stood on deck and stared as the two men walked casually off the metal stairs.

"Ten?" Taureau Barkley whispered from the corner of his mouth.

"I said about ten," Blithe snapped.

"You shouldn't be up here," said one of the guards dumbly.

Blithe smiled good-naturedly. "We're breaking out."

"You're… what?"

"It's quite simple, my friend. You see…"

Taureau Barkley tuned them all out. Though he knew his employer was really a Death Eater, a double-agent among the Dark Lord's enemies, the mysterious man still carried himself like one of Albus Dumbledore's henchmen. The witticisms, attempts at banter before a battle.

Taureau Barkley had little patience for such things.

He raised his wand and cast the spell he prided himself on most. Between the twelve guards and the two men, a small orb about the size of a marble came into being, hovering at waist height. At first none of them noticed it, but then it pulsed, and drew in all eyes. It pulsed again, and in a split second it grew in size exponentially, becoming as big as a wrecking ball. Taureau Barkley turned away, Blithe took the cue to cover his ears and turned too. Neither saw the next pulse, but there was a flash of light like thunder behind them, and a deafening boom. Taureau Barkley felt his ears pop, and a rush of air behind him forced him to take a step, then another, struggling not to be blown off his feet. The pressure behind him stopped suddenly, the noise and the light vanished, and he turned around.

The guards were scattered across the deck, on their backs, on their fronts, folded over railings. None standing. Blithe looked at him. "Good job."

He shrugged. "If I had done it with my own wand, it would have been far stronger. Any chance you know where I can find it?"

"Your wand?" asked Blithe, walking towards one of the guards who was struggling to get back to her feet. "It'll be in the Ministry somewhere, being examined. I could probably get a hold of it, but that would raise some questions."

"What are you doing?"

Blithe glanced back at him, firing a killing curse at the guard without looking. The guard hit the deck, dead. "I can't leave them alive, unfortunately. They've seen my face." He walked on to the next guard, who was still on the ground.

"Just wipe their memories. This is unnecessary."

"For a mercenary, you are strangely squeamish about death."

"As a mercenary," he said through slightly gritted teeth, "I don't kill if I can avoid it. Especially not if a simple _Obliviate_ will suffice."

Blithe looked at him again, killed another guard without looking. "Memory charms can be broken, Mr Barkley."

He cocked his head, watched Blithe kill another, and another. Memory charms _could_ be broken. He would have to remember that, the next time the blurry face of his captor passed through his mind. He had been beaten by someone, and he intended to find out who. "What about the prisoners?" he asked. "Some of them have seen you."

"There will be no prisoners." Another green flash of light. Another dead body. "I wandered about the ship before I reached your cell. With this lot dead, there is not a single living guard on board. I've adjusting the ship's course. In about five minutes, we will run aground of some very sharp, very ship-sinking rocks."

Taureau Barkley stared at him. Even Blithe seemed distasteful about this course of action. "I see." He walked over to the edge of the ship, gripped the railing, and looked down at the churning waves. "We jump right off, then?" Blithe nodded. "And do you have anywhere in mind?"

"I will not require your services for some time," said Blithe. "Go wherever you want. I believe it is Christmas. Find someone to spend it with."

"Understood."

"Anyone special for you, Mr Barkley?" Blithe was smiling, and there was a look in his eyes that Taureau Barkley didn't like. "Any loved ones? Significant others, perhaps?"

He gave Blithe a look, a look that he hoped conveyed his exact thoughts in regards to the question. He did so loathe familiarity. If his expression said _mind your own business_, then Blithe seemed to take the hint and said no more. Taureau Barkley turned back to look over the railing. He took a deep breath and jumped off.

Falling, falling, falling. Air rushing past his face, drops of water running up his cheeks, frothing, crashing ocean getting closer and closer.

He spun. Deliberation. Determination. Destination. Compression, expansion, space pushing and wind hissing, and with a _pop_, he was home.

He could smell chicken cooking.

"Is that you, Taureau?"

He smiled, walked into the kitchen, and kissed the person that made him feel so lucky.

"Yes."

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It wasn't a party, Lily had to admit. Though music played, very lovely music from a very talented orchestra, no one was dancing. Though food was served, it was paltry food, not even snacks really. Little balls of meat on the ends of toothpicks, fancy crackers with bitter, fancy dip.

The ballroom was crowded, though. Packed full of important people in expensive clothes, chatting and laughing and drinking and conniving their way through the night.

"So I was wrong," she said.

Marlene grinned. "Yep."

Marlene's dress was exquisite. Silky and elegant as it flowed off her frame, but slim and form-fitting. Lily reckoned hers was better though. It belonged to Marlene, of course, but she felt like it had really been made for her. Silver and smooth, hugging her body like a second skin but feeling more comfortable than any she'd worn before. She wondered what James would think. Then she berated herself for caring. Then she wondered what he'd think again.

"There are the MacMillans," said Marlene, pointing to a friendly looking group of people chatting by the drinks table. "And the Abbots. Oh, and there's the Greengrasses. Wow, and some Weasleys, too. Never seen them here before."

"That's nice, Mar," Lily said, scanning the crowd for any _real_ familiar faces.

"Urgh, the Parkinsons. Why were they invited?"

A man and woman prodding each other and sniggering to themselves caught Lily's attention. Something about the woman was vaguely familiar, but she couldn't put a finger on it from this distance. The man, though, was surreal to look at. Put quite simply, he was an older James Potter. Messy black hair peppered with grey, a lop-sided and lined grin, the glasses, the twinkle in the eye, it was uncanny.

Lily's seemingly uncontrollable feelings for the prat of a boy made her head feel light. Obviously, it was James' dad. She therefore felt very weird about the way a lot of the man's features made her feel. It was a rush, a soaring heart, and then she stopped and just felt somewhat gross about the whole thing.

"The Potters!" Marlene grabbed Lily's hand and dragged her to the couple, who looked over as they approached and beamed.

"Marlene," said Mr Potter jovially. "Why, I haven't seen you since you were sixteen!"

"I'm sixteen _now_, Mr Potter."

"That's the spirit!"

"Marlene," said Mrs Potter, smiling at her. "So lovely to see you, dear. And your friend, of course," she added, turning to Lily and grasping her hand. "Euphemia Potter. And this is my husband, Fleamont."

"I'm her husband," said Mr Potter.

"Hello," said Lily, struggling to control her smile. Oh, she wanted to impress them. She really wanted to impress them. "I'm Lily." Good job, said a voice in her head.

"Lily goes to school with us," said Marlene. "I'm sure James has mentioned her."

Mrs Potter frowned. "Should he have?" She looked at Lily again. "Oh my, you're his girlfriend, aren't you?"

"No," said Lily. She was so close to saying _not yet_ instead that she almost bit her tongue. "No, we're just friends."

Marlene frowned. "Black hasn't said anything about Lily?"

"He might have," said Mrs Potter thoughtfully. She was clearly thinking back, looking deep in thought.

"Will you marry my son?" Mr Potter asked Lily, smiling politely.

"What?"

"He's not that bad, really. Sure, there's his face and personality to work around, but once you get over that he can be quite charming."

"You look just like him, dear," Mrs Potter sighed. "Face and all."

"But his personality, Euphy, it's just terrible-"

"Excuse my husband," Mrs Potter told the girls. "He thinks he's funny."

"Well the apple certainly didn't fall far from the tree," snorted Marlene.

"The apple fell so far from the tree," said Mr Potter, "it's in another orchard."

"You don't have to marry our son," Mrs Potter told Lily. "We'd love for you to take him off our hands, but we can hardly throw the boy at you."

"Don't worry," said Lily. Her voice was too high. "I don't intend to."

Mrs Potter's smile thinned. "Are you saying there's something wrong with my boy?"

"Oh dear," said Marlene.

"What?" said Lily, horrified.

"You think you're so much better than him?"

"No!" This was going terribly. "No, no, no, I don't think that at all! Potter- J-James is amazing! Honest, I think the world of your son right now, in fact I _wish_ I was-"

Mrs Potter grinned widely and put a hand on Lily's shoulder. "Only joking!" Lily's jaw dropped. Mr Potter guffawed and clapped his hands. Marlene was sniggering beside her. "Really, you might be too good for our son, dear," Mrs Potter continued, looking quite sad. "Fleamont, maybe we should start looking for dumb ones. I heard the youngest Parkinson girl is quite pretty."

Mr Potter made a face. "I don't want to be related to the Parkinsons."

"The disgusting thing about Pure-blood families, dear," said Mrs Potter thoughtfully, "is that I think you already are."

Lily winced. Marlene tried to seize the conversation before it could go too far down that rabbit-hole. "Where is Potter, anyway? I can't see him and Black anywhere."

Immediately, Lily snapped her gaze to Mr and Mrs Potter's faces. The hope flaring inside her was shameful, but she couldn't help it. James being here would make her day. Merlin, it would make her Christmas break.

"I don't think they're coming," said Mrs Potter.

"I saw them getting dressed all fancy, though," Mr Potter said, frowning. "Maybe they'll turn up later."

Lily's heart plummeted. A drab night it would be, then. Surprisingly, Marlene's response captured a fragment of Lily's disappointment in her tone. "Oh. Well, alright then. We'll see you guys later, I suppose."

The Potters waved goodbye and left, with Mrs Potter lecturing her husband about something as they walked off.

"What now?" asked Lily, failing to reign in all of the misery in her voice.

"I don't know." Again, Marlene sounded just as downtrodden.

Lily looked around, wondering what the whole point of this stupid party was, anyway. She looked at Marlene as a random thought struck her. "Hey," she said cautiously, "you don't think… _he_… will be here, do you?"

Years ago, Marlene had confided in Lily and Alice a fact about herself that she had gone to great lengths to hide from the rest of their peers. There was a name Lily and Alice had been forbidden from saying, lest they suffer Marlene's wrath.

"Probably," said Marlene despondently. "This night just keeps getting worse."

Lily couldn't help but agree with her.

A house-elf appeared by their side suddenly, bearing a torn piece of parchment. "This just arrived for you, mistress," the house-elf squeaked.

Marlene took the parchment, and Lily thanked the house-elf before looking over her friend's shoulder. She recognized the handwriting immediately. She didn't know when she had learned his handwriting. Maybe it was during the many times she had watched him write lines in detention. She hadn't known she'd paid such close attention for so long. Merlin, for just how long had she _really_ liked him?

She wasn't sure she wanted the answer to that.

_Friends,_

_Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs cordially invite you all to the Marauders' Feast. (Address is on the back). Moony wishes to request that someone brings Muggle money, as Messrs Padfoot and Prongs must confess to have none at all. Whosoever does bring money shall be handsomely compensated. Wormtail has _\- there, _five pence_ was crossed out and replaced with _ten pence_ \- _but we are not sure if that is very much or very little at this stage. We are cautiously optimistic, but please, do bring us some more._

_Christmas is a time to be with those important to us, and at the risk of sounding like some Hufflepuffs, we include you lot in that. We want to see you. We have sent multiple copies of this out to you all - that is Frank, Alice, Lily, and Marlene, but Mr Padfoot would like to emphasize Marlene in particular. He wants to see you. Prongs doesn't think a group letter is the place for that, but Padfoot reminds Prongs that it is Christmas, which Prongs considers to be a fair argument. Evans. You had better come._

_Regards,_

_Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs_

Marlene wasted no time. She looked at Lily and folded the parchment away. "Go grab your purse."

Lily's nod was swift. "Meet you in five."

They ended up meeting in two, such as it was, and met in the corridor leading to the ballroom. They apparated to London, navigated through the beautifully decorated Muggle streets, weaving through the hordes of people. The Christmas trees and pretty lights at any other time would have rendered Lily distracted and awestruck, but right then she didn't care. Or at least, she barely did. When they reached the place written on the parchment, the two girls looked at each other in confusion, thinking they'd read it wrong.

It was a takeaway shop, small and cheap looking. But inside, sitting around a curved booth by the window, were six familiar faces.

Marlene and Lily grinned at each other and walked in. Six heads turned, faces lighting up at the two girls, and the group cheered. Frank and Alice budged up along at the end to make space. Peter smiled at them both. Remus grinned widely. Sirius said something dumb to Marlene, and she reached across and punched him, a toothy grin of her own spreading quickly across her face.

Lily's eyes held James, and he grinned that stupid grin at her, and he was so stupid. And dumb.

None of this stopped her heart from skipping a beat. Her own dumb grin captured her face, despite her best efforts, and it felt like her blood was flowing faster. The others were all laughing at Sirius for something, but she and James took no notice.

"I referred to you as James, earlier today," she told him, her voice much more level than she felt.

"What on earth prompted you to do that?"

"Your mother."

"You met my mother?"

"And your dad."

"I'm so sorry."

"Yeah."

"Did they like you?"

She grimaced. "It's hard to say."

He smiled at her, a genuine, warm smile. "She would have loved you, I reckon."

Lily matched his smile. "Why's that?"

"You're just so incredibly perfect. Of course she did."

Why did he have to say that? Why? She had just started relaxing, but now she felt the color flood her face. She could _not_ let him know how badly she'd fallen.

James was looking at her, his expression growing somewhat thoughtful, and his smile widened. "Yeah," he continued. "You'll fit right in, I bet."

"What does that mean?"

"What?"

"I'll fit right in. What, with your family?"

"I- I don't know."

She was relaxing again. Composure. Calm. "Really, Potter, what did that mean?"

"Nothing."

"It sounded like something." Just keep teasing him.

"Honest, Evans, it was nothing."

"I don't know, Potter. It sounded a lot like something-"

"What's something?" asked Frank. The rest of them looked at the two.

"Nothing," said James and Lily at the same time.

She flashed him a smile, met his eyes, and promptly felt her composure slipping again. Lily sat next to Alice quickly and put her hands in her lap.

"So," said Marlene, dropping down next to Lily, "why here, of all places? Surely not for the ambience?"

"We found this place last year," said Sirius. "We were dead drunk, and-"

"You were fifteen last year," Lily found herself saying.

"Good work, Evans," Sirius said encouragingly. "So we were dead drunk, and stumbling about the place, and-"

"And you found it," said Marlene shortly. "Is that where your story's going?"

"There's more build-up first," Sirius grumbled. "It gets really funny."

"I'm sure," said Alice dryly.

Sirius opened his mouth to retort, and Frank cut him off. "There's a party next week."

James perked up. "The Wasps one?" Frank nodded. "Good thinking, Longbottom!" James looked at the rest. "The Wasps, they're a Quidditch team, Lily-"

"I know that."

"Doubt it. But they're doing this charity thing for New Year's at their stadium in Wimbourne. The Falcons will be there, the Harpies, some Tornados players I think, too. The after-party is all anyone's talking about."

"You reckon we can get in?" Frank asked.

James nodded. "I'll find a way."

The others chattered on about the party. They would all attend, Lily among them, of course. She let her gaze wander as they sorted out the details. They were all squished into the booth, cosy and happy and, well, _jolly_. It was everything Lily could have wanted.

A radio sat on a windowsill by the counter of the little shop. It played _Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas_, and Lily had to stop herself from singing along.

Instead she let herself enjoy the moment, watching her friends as they talked and laughed around her. To Lily, it was the perfect moment. She wondered how many more like it they would have.

_Through the years, we all will be together-_

Sirius smacked James on the back of the head, Remus and Peter and Marlene sniggered and pointed, Frank and Alice whispered to each other and laughed quietly.

_If the fates allow…_

Lily's gaze rested finally on James. It was strange how quickly she seemed to have changed her mind on him. But at the same time she suspected it hadn't been quick at all. Rather, it was a gradual feeling that she'd noticed now only because it was too big not to. Maybe she'd liked him for a while. Maybe she always had. Some part of her, at least. The rest of her had just caught up.

James made a joke and they laughed, and he ruffled his hair and winked at Lily.

Marlene nudged her. "Seriously, I hate to go on about it," she said, "but I still don't understand why you don't fancy him. I think you might really be missing out."

James was still looking at her.

"Hm," was all Lily could say.


	19. Why Shouldn't We?

"Any volunteers?" the man with the clipboard had called, and by some ridiculous stroke of luck James had been chosen. He stood there, on the bright morning of the last day of December, in the middle of the stadium, the crowd screaming and chanting all around him, every seat taken, every eye on him. He could barely make out the faces of his friends, sitting halfway up the stands. For a charity event, it was being taken very, very seriously.

"Thanks for choosing me," James said, shaking the man's hand.

"I didn't really choose you. You just screamed and ran onto the grass when I asked for volunteers."

"You looked at me and pointed."

"Because you were screaming and running onto the grass. The guards wanted to stun you."

A roguish grin. "Well, I'm James. Pleased to meet you."

After a moment of looking unimpressed, the man sighed, lifted his clipboard. "Alright, kid. Surname?"

"Potter."

The double-take. The quick once-over, shoulders straightening, forced smile rising. "That's, well, that's excellent! This way, if you please. Let's get you ready, eh?"

Wimbourne stadium was massive. Tucked into a mountain, far away from prying Muggle eyes, it was one of the biggest Quidditch stadiums in England. The stands rose high into the air, the open dome sealing them all in while still allowing the sunlight to stream down, taking the edge off the frosty winter air. The grass was dewy. Charms had been cast to prevent snow from building up. It was due to one of professional Quidditch's many odd rules. The ground must be a hard, bone-breaking consequence. It supposedly built character and encouraged better flying.

"Mr Potter, meet the Wimbourne Wasps!"

Before James were seven British heroes, tall and proud, good-looking and immensely talented. He reckoned he fit right in.

"Alright, mate?" said Ludo Bagman, _the_ Ludo Bagman, the man with his face splashed on the front of every Witch Weekly, every sports page, plastered on the bedroom walls of every young boy or girl who gave a toss about Quidditch.

James shook his hand, opened his mouth to say something funny, but the man with the clipboard cut him off, his voice magnified and carrying to every corner of the stadium. "Okay, folks! Our first lucky volunteer, Mr James Potter, will now take a crack at playing with the Wimbourne Wasps! Do you think he'll do alright?"  
The crowd's roar picked up, deafeningly loud. James couldn't tell if they were being supportive or abusive. From the few words he could make out, it was a mixture.

"You ready, James?" asked Ludo. "We're going to run an arrowhead with you at the front. I'll pass you the Quaffle, and you take a shot at the posts. Think you can do that?"

"Of course," said James, grinning easily and pretending his hands weren't shaking like crazy.

"You'll be shooting against me," said Emmeline Jones. "I'm the Keeper."

A few years ago, James would have fainted to have Emmeline Jones even look at him. The dreams he had had of this woman… they were not flattering. He cleared his throat. "I know. Ma'am. Miss. Em- Emmeline. Emmeline Jones."

Ludo sounded amused. "Great. You're the first volunteer of the day, Potter. Try to start the New Year's Eve celebration off well for us. It's for charity, after all."

Frankly, James didn't care what it was for. He was about to play with the Wasps.

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Lily didn't think playing with the Wasps was such a big deal, but everyone else in the stadium seemed to. "I don't think playing with the Wasps is such a big deal," Lily said.

The spectators around her, friends included, gave her dirty looks.

"Lily," said Marlene, "I love you, but I think you should shut your mouth and wait for someone to ask for your opinion."

"Marlene!"

"No, she's right, Evans," said Sirius gravely. "Shut it."

People were still glaring at her. Alice, sitting next to her, nudged her slightly. "They take this stuff quite seriously," she whispered.

"I'm picking up on that now, yeah."

"I agree with you, personally," said Remus, on her other side. "But it's all about tact, Lily."

"Yep. Noted."

"I agree, too," said Alice quietly. "But sharing interests is a big part of friendships. Even if we don't care about a thing, we should still care that _they_ care about the thing."

Lily noticed that Alice's eyes drifted over to Frank, who had a pair of omnioculars over his eyes and was jumping excitedly. She smiled slightly. "I see."

Alice saw her smile and raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"You still like Frank."

"Of course I still like Frank, Lily. I wasn't just going to stop."

"Well, Alice, he likes _you_."

Alice nodded like Lily was slow. "I already know that."

"Then… why aren't you together?"

Alice sighed. "I've been asking him the same thing for weeks. He has all sorts of dumb reasons."

"Like?"

She made a face. "Well, we were best friends for years, weren't we? Then he got with Amelia Fawcett, I got mad, we drifted apart, I realized I like him, he broke up with Amelia, and now he's scared. Romantic stuff has damaged our friendship. He doesn't think we should take the next step."

"He's…" Lily hesitated. "He's not wrong, is he? Those are some good reasons."

Alice looked frustrated. "I just don't see why two people who clearly like each other shouldn't be together!"

"What if it's not up to them?" asked Lily, feeling her face start to color. "What if they're not right for each other? They're too different, and they fight all the time?"

Alice frowned. "That doesn't really sound like me and Frank."

_She liked him._

"And they finally get along, so why ruin that?"

_She liked him so much._

"Frank and I have always gotten along. We were best friends, Lily, weren't you listening?"

_She hadn't done anything about it, though. Why not? _"Not when you were fighting. You didn't get along then." _That's why._

"Whose side are you on?"

"What if you do get together, and then you break up and it's never the same again?" _That's why._

These thoughts, having recently occurred to her, festering in her mind over the last few days, sprang from her mouth without control.

Alice looked incredulous. "Merlin, have you and Frank been talking about this?"

"No, of course not. I'm only saying, Alice," Lily said carefully, not even looking at her friend, "just because two people like each other, it doesn't mean they have to be together. If you like something, I mean really, really like something, wouldn't it be best to just leave it be? I mean, it would be so easy to ruin that thing. And you like it so much so… what if it's best to just stay away?"

"Lily, you were the one you was pestering me just now, saying that Frank and I should be together because we like each other!"

"I still think you should be together," said Lily quickly.

Alice rubbed her eyes. "Then what are you trying to say?"

"Just that," Lily bit her lip, "in some situations, people just shouldn't be together. That it wouldn't work."

Alice looked at her expectantly. "But...?"

"But," said Lily, "you and Frank are not those people. You're absolutely good together. Some people aren't, that's all. So I was arguing your point. About people liking each other. For argument's sake."

"Oh," said Alice, letting out a laugh. "We're arguing about nothing, then."

"Yes." Lily looked out at the flying figures in the sky with pursed lips, but not really seeing them. "Absolutely nothing."

They were quiet for a few seconds. Eventually, a cheer went up all around them. "James just scored," said Remus awkwardly.

Lily nodded, spotting the messy haired figure in the sky and forcing herself to find interest in the sport. "Fantastic."

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After scoring, James landed on the ground and hoisted his broomstick in the air, lent to him by the man with the clipboard. It was the latest, most expensive broomstick on the market, and it had been amazing to fly with. He handed it back to the clipboard man with great reluctance.

While the clipboard man was calling to the audience for the next volunteer to keep the show going, Ludo landed beside James and clapped his shoulder. "You've got moves, Potter. What year are you?"

"Sixth."

"Hm. The scouts we send to Hogwarts are usually only looking for Seventh Years. I reckon I can put a word in, though - see if we can't steal you away. What do you think?"

James wasn't keen on the idea of leaving Hogwarts before Seventh Year for Quidditch, but he didn't articulate that. "Maybe. Thanks."

Ludo grinned, made to lift back off the ground. "Don't mention it."

Before the sports star could fly off, James cleared his throat and spoke fast. "Hey. Do you reckon you can do me another favor?"

"Other than a Quidditch career on a silver platter? Sure, Potter. What is it?"

James didn't bother looking abashed. "I hear there's a party tonight, here in Wimbourne. To ring in the new year."

"Yeah?" Ludo sounded amused. "What about it?"

"Well, it's all anyone's talking about. I heard it'll be the who's who of parties. Everyone worth mentioning will be there."

"Yes, they will," said Ludo. "And a lot of people have already tried talking to me about it. Let me guess. You want me to let you, a seventeen year old boy-"

"Sixteen."

"-into a party full of the rich and famous, and alcohol and other _adult things_ that you shouldn't be near, for which invitations are extremely sought after? You want me to let you in there?"

"And my friends," said James.

"How many friends?"

"Seven."

"You and your seven friends."

"Yep."

Ludo sighed. "And why should I do that?"

James grinned. "Because I know people. Have you heard of Caradoc Dearborn and Anton Windstrum?"

"The auror and the teacher? Sure, Windstrum was a big deal in the Ministry a few years ago, but they're hardly notable now."

"Yes, but they're good friends with Sawyer Hughes. I'm sure you've heard whispers that he'll be our next Minister of Magic."

Ludo nodded, looking interested now. "Of course."

"Well, I can reach him, through them . So after all this Quidditch business is over and you retire, should you want a Ministry job, I'm a good person to know."

Ludo's eyes narrowed. "How do you know I'd like a Ministry job after retirement?"

"You said so in a Witch Weekly interview," James said quickly, his ears reddening. "So, what do you say?"

Ludo looked at him for a while. "You really reckon you could reach Sawyer Hughes? And he would listen to you?"

"Definitely."

"Of course you'd say that, though."

"Well, yeah. I'm not going to say no, am I?"

"But you're telling the truth? You're really in with the future Minister of Magic?"

James nodded.

Ludo looked torn. "I shouldn't, Potter."

"Go on."

"There is every reason not to."

"But what is your heart telling you?"

"Not to."

"Oh."

After another few seconds, Ludo sighed and scratched his head. "Fine. Damn it, fine. Talk to me in a couple hours. I'll get you in."

James beamed and nodded. "Yes! Thank you, Ludo."

"Go tell your seven stupid friends," Ludo mumbled, kicking off the ground and flying over to the man with the clipboard.

James clapped his hands together and set off to do just that.

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At eight'o'clock, the group of teens stood on a beach, cold and confused and staring at the side of a cliff. Its peak loomed high above them, indiscernible in the darkness, but they could make out the rough and jagged surface of the cliff's face before them.

"This is the place?" Frank asked James.

"This is the place," James confirmed.

Frank frowned at the wall of rock, looked hard at it, but it didn't spontaneously turn into the raucous party in a mansion they had been promised. "Well it doesn't look like the place."

James walked forward and placed his palm against the rock. He pushed. Nothing happened. He pushed again. "Bugger."

"What?"

"I thought it would be like Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, where the wall is invisible and we just walk through."

"You don't know how to get inside?"

"Ludo didn't tell me that part, okay?"

"Then what _did_ he tell you?" asked Marlene.

"He told me I have good moves," said James.

"Quidditch moves?"

"Yes."

The other seven groaned and started walking away. Frank shook his head at the boy and shoved his cold hands in his pockets.

"Wait!" They paused, turned cautiously. "I think I've found it!" Slowly, the group walked back and peered at the wall, where James was poking his wand into one of the crevices. He wiggled it a bit and closed his eyes, and a section of the rock wall in front of them slid open cleanly, like a sliding French door. On the other side was a cavern, with torches hung on brackets sitting on its stone walls. And the cavern was filled with people. Perhaps forty young witches and wizards lined up, dressed in their best dresses and robes and dress robes, and shouting and pleading towards someone deeper in the cavern.

The eight teens glanced at one another, James spared a moment to look at them all smugly, and they walked into the cavern. James didn't even seem to consider waiting at the back of the line, as he strutted through the cavern and past all the waiting hopefuls with the same easy confidence and puffed up chest that he'd walked through the corridors of Hogwarts with for the last six years. He'd toned it down in recent months, but for this walk he'd clearly chosen to tone it all the way up. Frank certainly couldn't fault his conviction.

At the far end of the cavern, standing in front of a concave wall with a wooden door built into it, was a heavy-set man wearing glasses and holding a long roll of parchment that trailed down to skim the ground. He didn't seem impressed that the group had skipped the line, and held up a meaty hand to stop them before they even reached him.

"We're on the list," said James confidently. "Look under Ludo Bagman."

The man looked at James for a few long seconds, before slowly checking the list. "Names?" They told him their names and he nodded and looked back up at James.

"You're on the list. But you all look a little young to come in here."

James nodded. "That's really nice of you to say. Can we come in now?"

"I need to ask for some identification, I'm afraid."

"Do wizards even have identification?" Lily whispered.

"I do," said Frank, stepping forward and pulling his apparition license from his pocket. "Here you go."

The man glanced at it and nodded. "And the rest of you?"

"It's alright," Frank said with an easy smile. "They're with me."

"Saying they're with you is not going to get them in," the man said.

The wooden door in the rock wall opened up behind him, and Ludo Bagman poked his head out. "There you are, Potter." He looked at the man. "It's alright, they're with me."

Exhaling heavily through his nose, the man stepped aside, looking pained. Ludo ushered them all in. Sirius nodded to him eagerly, and Marlene was red-faced and not meeting his eyes. But Frank wasn't the type to get starstruck. He kept himself level-headed and calm.

"I love you," he blurted.

Ludo hesitated and opened his mouth.

"I've loved you since the World Cup in seventy-four. I have posters of you on all the walls in my room back home, I used to cut out all the headlines from the newspapers every time you won a game, I-"

"Alright, Longbottom," said Alice, grabbing him by the elbow and dragging him on. "This is sad."

Torn between agreeing with her and wanting to turn back to bow at Ludo's feet, Frank eventually nodded and mumbled, "Okay."

There was no shortage of other things to look at. The teens had walked into the high-ceilinged entrance hall of a mansion. It _had_ to be a mansion. Frank had grown up in a Pure-blood household, he had seen Potter Manor, and Prewett Place, had even glimpsed the legendary Selwyns' residence and Malfoy Manor, but still he found himself taken aback by the decadence on display before him. The floors gleamed like they were sweating, the walls rich with magical artefacts worthy of museums and moving paintings so vivid and obscure and stupid that they _had_ to be worth millions of Galleons. The chandelures were shiny, and so sharp, so filled with precious gems, that if they were to fall they could be re-used to fight wars with dragons and giants.

Juxtaposed with the elegance and class of the place, countless rowdy witches and wizards crowded the large hall, spilling their drinks, laughing, knocking over priceless items on pedestals, staining the walls, and throwing a true and proper party for the ages.

"Wicked," Frank murmured.

There was Celestina Warbeck, giggling away as she ran at the top of the stairs, dragging along a handsome man wearing a hastily unbuttoned shirt and a silly smile by the hand. They were heading for one of the many arched doorways leading to some other glamorous part of the manor, and Frank could only guess what they intended to get up to.

Emmeline Jones, Keeper for the Wasps, was playing a game of drinking mini-Quidditch with some of her teammates, a favorite party past-time albeit a terribly complex one. The lead singer of the Fortuna Majors was leaning against a pillar, green-faced. Sports stars and politicians, war-time heroes from the Grindelwald era and famous musicians streamed in and out of the hall, running through the doorways or chatting amiably to one another, and Frank could only stare in wonder.

"This," said Alice quietly, "is unreal."

"Yeah," said Frank, his voice vacant. "Overwhelming to say the least. Should we even be here?"

Alice looked at him and took his hand. "No." So she led him right into the thick of things, not caring, walking past the most famous faces in the world without even looking twice.

She had changed so much, and he had put this off for so long. Frank found all his thoughts, all his feelings for the girl come surging to the forefront of his mind, and he couldn't wait any longer to say what he reckoned he should have long since said.

He tugged her hand. "Alice."

She stopped, looked at him and smiled. "Yeah?"

"I…" So familliar, so beautiful. So important to him. "I really care about you."

She reached out and took his other hand. "I really care about you, too, Frank."

He nodded, hesitated, and-

"Party," yelled Marlene, coming from behind them and grabbing them both by the shoulders.

"Party," Sirius concurred with glee, running ahead of them towards Emmeline Jones and the drinking mini-Quidditch table.

Frank could only spare Alice what he hoped was a smile that somehow told her what he was thinking, before they reached the table and the professional Quidditch players turned to look at the four teens.

"Rules," Emmeline said loudly, her voice slurring slightly as she surveyed them piously. "You must down your drinks before sitting at the table!"

"Uh," said Alice, "we don't have any drinks."

She blinked, and turned to look at the top of the stairs, where the drummer from the Brazen Hinkypunks was chatting to a lady in an elegant dress. "Get these kids some damn drinks!" The man looked down at the group in surprise and frowned slightly. "Yes, I'm talking to you, Vincent! Cece's not interested, stop flirting and go get us some drinks!" She looked back at the teens and smiled warmly. "Won't be a minute, loves. What are your names?"

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"My name's James," James said loudly, and all those at the drinks table down the corridor from the entrance hall cheered and clapped him on the back.

"James," roared a wizard with a pointy black hat on his head.

"James," chorused the rest of them.

"Go on, James, drink with us!"

He pretended to think about it, then beamed. "Alright. I'm going to drink with you!"

They all paused and looked at each other, then they cheered again, louder, and raised their drinks, spilling froth on the floor.

"Try this one, James," said Barnaby Walsh, Beater for the Tornados, sliding a fat glass of dark brown liquid across the table to him.

James sniffed it. "What in the world is this?"

"Whiskey!"

"Just… whiskey? Not firewhisky?"

Lily was by his side, leaning against the table and looking amused. "It's a Muggle drink, Potter. Different from firewhisky."

He peered down at it. "Just whiskey, huh? Does it taste nice?"

She shrugged. "Depends who you ask."

"I'm asking you."

Lily grinned and shook her head. "It's awful."

James loved seeing her grin. She grinned at him quite often these days, and James dreaded the day it stopped having this effect on him. He very much doubted that day would ever come, though.

"So are you going to drink it?" she asked.

"Yeah," called Barnaby Walsh,"go on, James!"

Without letting his eyes leave Lily's, James lifted the glass to his lips and downed it in one. He shuddered. "That's awful!" The rest of them cheered. James nodded to Lily. "Go on, Evans. What about you?"

Reluctantly, she smiled and indicated to Barnaby. A glass full of whiskey slid over to her, and she lifted it, looking James hard in the eyes now.

"Wait," said Barnaby urgently, "what's your name?"

"Lily," she said.

James grinned, and joined the rest of them in what he knew was coming. "Lily," they all yelled, raising their glasses and spilling their drinks.

Some short hours later, James dazedly found himself in a large room down one of the many lined corridors of the mansion. He stood at one end of a long table, and all those crowding the walls of the room cheered and watched eagerly. At the other end of the table stood a man called Clarke, a columnist for the Daily Prophet. Resting on James' end of the table, right in front of him, was his wand. At Clarke's end was a glass full of Heidelberg mead.

Ludo Bagman stood by the middle of the table, swaying and unsteady. "Three. Two…"

They waited.

"Two."

James frowned, looked at Ludo.

"Three."

James and Clarke sighed, the tension leaving them as they-

"One!"

James snatched his wand up as Clarke grabbed the glass and lifted it and- "Expelliarmus!"

The glass flew through the air, James caught it, and downed the mead in one big gulp. He slammed the glass down on the table.

The room erupted.

"That's the fourth one in a row," Sirius yelled from behind him, ruffling James' hair.

"One," repeated Ludo, stumbling a little and waiting for something to happen.

"You're on fire, Prongs," said Remus, grinning, a little red in the face.

"That's our James," warbled Peter.

Emmeline Jones gave him a thumbs up from across the room, and James almost fainted.

"I'll handle him," said a tall man, unshaven and long-haired. He was an auror, from what James knew. Phillip, or something of the sort.

James grinned at the challenge. "You're on, mate."

The crowd around the room called out approvingly at the continued entertainment, placing their bets in the currency of voices. James put his wand on the table again, and a full glass was placed in front of Phillip.

Barnaby replaced Ludo, who was talking to the wall.

"Three. Two… One!"

James grabbed his wand. "Expelliarmus!"

The glass soared through the air and he caught it, looked at it triumphantly. It was empty.

Phillip smacked his lips. "That's good mead." The crowd roared, beside themselves at the upset. People clapped and patted Phillip's back, while James glared at the auror and folded his arms. Phillip looked over at him. "Alright, Potter. It's your turn now."

With his eyes narrowed, James pocketed his wand and Phillip rested his own wand in front of him. A glass of mead appeared in front of James.

"Three," said Barnaby. "Two… One!"

Just as soon as James could lift his glass, it was plucked front his hands and caught by Phillip. The crowd went wild again. James didn't bother watching them congratulate the auror, sighing in frustration and turning to his friends instead. The crowd was done with him.

"Tough luck, Prongs," said Sirius, giving him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

"Yeah," said James. "But I don't even care-"

"Hold that thought, mate," Sirius said, looking off to the side with a quickly. "I think McKinnon wants to talk."

James watched with a frown as his friend joined Marlene at one of the small tables lining the walls. He turned to Remus and Peter to see what they made of that, but they both only smiled sympathetically at him.

"It's okay, James," said Remus, nodding and rubbing his back. "It's going to be okay."

James slapped his hand away. "Why are you so nurturing when you're drunk?"

"There, there, James," said Peter, offering him a simpering smile.

James groaned and left the two of them, making his way to a small table with a spare seat. It was no coincidence that the table's only other occupant had rabid red hair.

"What's wrong, Potter?" asked Lily. "Did you realize you're not _actually_ the best at everything?"

He smiled appreciatively at her. "Yeah."

She smiled back. James looked away, back at Sirius and Marlene. "Hey, do you reckon there's something going on between those two?"

She turned. "Who, Black and Mar?" She shook her head and laughed. "No."

"But-"

"Trust me. There is nothing."

"Evans," James insisted, "they sure seem to _act_ like there's something going on. Look at them!"

Sirius and Marlene were both leaning in over their table, and making rather strong eye contact in James' opinion.

Lily shook her head again. "Potter, believe me, even if those two liked each other, nothing would ever happen."

"Why not?"

"Sometimes people liking each other just isn't enough."

"You don't think Sirius is good enough for her or something?"

"That's not it."

"Then what?"

She grimaced. "I can't tell you. Sorry."

"Evans," James said, feeling frustrated, "why shouldn't two people who like each other be together?" His words brought a small smile to her lips, which only frustrated him more. "What?"

"Nothing," she said, shaking her head once again.

James sighed and leaned back in his seat. Phillip was playing against someone else now. The game was fondly referred to as Quickdraw, and was rarely played at Hogwarts, due mostly to the school's strict policy regarding the use of spells on other students. James, of course, cared very little for the rules, but finding a willing partner that wasn't Sirius, Remus, or Peter often proved far more difficult. Phillip won again, and his next opponent stepped up soon after. Again and again Phillip won, and James felt a scowl capture his face, deepening with each win. He really was a very sore loser, he'd be the first to admit it.

"Potter."

James turned to see Craig Bunnings, a member of the Wasps' coaching staff, beckoning him over. He hesitated, glanced at Lily quickly, before getting up and approaching the man, who nodded to him.

"How do you do, Potter?"

"Great-"

"Great. Now, Ludo was talking to me earlier. Before he… lost his focus. He reckons you've got talent."

James nodded. "I do."

"Good. Ever thought about playing professionally?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Good. You've made quite an impression on the team, and we'd love to have a chat with you about a variety of things. This isn't an offer, by the way. We will still have to scout you, check out your games at Hogwarts. But if you're good enough, we can steal you away as early as next season."

James stared. He was good enough. He had no doubt about that. And yet… "I don't know, sir. I want to finish my education."

Craig surveyed him for a few seconds, before shrugging. "We'll talk regardless, eh? We're not desperate to have you, make no mistake. But finding and cultivating talent is my passion, and I've got a good feeling about you. I can't guarantee this offer will still be on the table by the end of your Seventh Year, but... we'll discuss that later." With a curt nod, he strode off.

James watched with wide eyes as he left. Bad decision? Perhaps. But he was sure it was the right one. He wasn't ready to leave Hogwarts. With a sigh, James left the room, thinking hard. Was Quidditch really even all he wanted to do with his life after Hogwarts? Was it significant enough, would it satisfy him enough? James wasn't sure.

He emerged into the corridor, saw movement to his left, and turned. Then he stared, jaw dropping. Sirius and Marlene were wrapped around each other, wrestling on the spot, snogging furiously. James grinned and clapped his hands, and they paused and looked at him. "I knew it! I knew you guys-"

"Prongs," said Sirius, in a husky voice that James never wanted to hear again, "bugger off."

Marlene's expression said the same.

After a moment, James nodded and turned on his heel. Still smiling to himself smugly he walked the other way, quite pleased. He had absolutely predicted it. Sirius liked Marlene, and Marlene liked Sirius. Lily was wrong.

His thoughts clouded at that. Something about the way she had phrased her words… James had thought, had dared to allow himself to think, with all the changes in his relationship with Lily, that maybe the time was right. Maybe he should finally jump in the deep end, put everything on the line. Because he was _sure_ she liked him. And if she did, why shouldn't they be together? Surely, he was reading all the signs right. He had to be.

As he walked, footsteps approached from behind him. Witches and wizards started overtaking him through the corridors, hurrying past excitedly. When he spotted Frank and Alice passing him, he stopped them. "What's happening?"

"We're all heading out to the beach," said Alice, grinning from ear to ear. "There's going to be a show!"

"Come on, James," said Frank, draping an arm around Alice's shoulders without seeming to even think about it. Alice looked at him in surprise and her grin widened further still. "You'll miss it at this rate!"

The two set off ahead of him, leaving James to trundle along after everyone hurrying out to catch the new year. When he reached the entrance someone tapped him on the shoulder, and James turned to see Sirius and Marlene, arms round each other's waists, dilated pupils, ruffled hair and slightly unbuttoned and loose clothing, panting in front him.

"We're off, mate," said Sirius, looking very, very pleased with himself.

"You're not staying until midnight? It's not far off."

"Nah, we have urgent things to do." Marlene sniggered and Sirius nudged her. "So, happy new year and all that. I'll be back home tomorrow, I reckon. I don't know."

James smirked. "Right. Well, happy new year to you, too. And look after him, McKinnon!"

Marlene saluted, and then broke into a fit of giggles. Sirius giggled alongside her. Oh, they were quite drunk.

The two left, and James stood in the entrance hall as everyone rushed around him, feeling very sober, and unusually lonely.

"Chin up, Potter. Haven't you heard it's a party?"

He turned, and Lily was there. Suddenly, he felt tired of playing games. "Do you like me, Evans?"

She stared. Opened her mouth and made no noise.

"I need to know. Do you like me?"

"Potter…"

"It's a simple question."

She shook her head. "It's not a simple question. It's more complicated than that."

"What's complicated, Evans?"

"People, Potter! People are complicated. They fight, and they hate, and they hold grudges over the silliest things! They're proud and they're arrogant, or they're prissy and misjudging!"

James frowned. "What does that have to do with anything?"

She stomped her foot in frustration. "_Everything_. Good things are ruined because people are dumb. Things that are really, really good. Really. Do you understand what I'm saying, Potter?"

He hesitated. "I think so. I think I get your point. But what stands out more to me is what you _haven't _said. I asked you a question, Evans, and though I tentatively think you've tried to answer it, you seem to be refusing to say tell me outright. Evans, _do you like me_?"

Why wouldn't she just say it? She looked torn, incredibly torn as she held off responding for as long as she could, and then she looked sad. "I can't answer that, Potter. I won't ruin- I won't answer it. I can't let myself."

He nodded. He didn't allow himself to be swallowed by the raw feelings that threatened to envelop him. "Okay," he said. He turned and followed the crowd outside. Idiot. When he emerged onto the beach, there were already hundreds of people there, not all of them celebrities. Stupid idiot. Someone was doing a dance performance in front of a bonfire and everyone clapped when it finished. Bubbles flew into the air, impossibly large bubbles the size of wrecking balls, changing color as they drifted higher and eventually popping softly, sending down the tiniest of colored droplets that faded into nothingness when they reached the ground. Everyone _ooh'd_. Stupid bleeding idiot. The background singers of the Brazen Hinkypunks sang a song about having a good party. Everyone cheered. Before long, the countdown was upon them.

"Ten!"

Grins all around, people finding those they cared for most in the crowd.

"Nine!"

James sighed and looked around disinterestedly as Eight, Seven and Six were chanted out.

At Five, he spotted Lily. They made eye contact, and he looked away, stared instead at the bonfire. Stupid idiot.

"Four!"

He was regretting coming to this party, around then. Regretting the whole day. It was dumb.

"Three!"

Everyone had coupled off by that point. Almost everyone, James corrected with a snort.

"Two!"

He shoved his hands in his pockets. And things had all been going so promisingly.

"One!"

Ah, well.

"Happy New Year!"

Fireworks went off, loud, vibrant things that James barely glanced at. Frank and Alice kissed, finally, wrapped up in each other's arms and holding on like they intended to never let go, and James spared a moment to at least be happy for them. He turned, walked past Ludo Bagman and Emmeline Jones snogging like teenagers, past countless famous couples who would no doubt be in the papers the next morning, and strolled back into the mansion.

There were a few people still inside. Many of them were kissing. He smiled, nodded at those who weren't, wishing them a happy new year. He could have done with a bit of happy, he reckoned.

So he sought happy out at the drinks table, for where else could it be hiding? Unsurprisingly, he was not the only one who seemed to have had this idea. He nodded to the other poor sods, and poured himself a glass of the 'just whiskey'. A man appeared right next to him, far too close, despite all the room around the table. James tried to ignore him, but the man was humming to himself and staring at the ceiling, not at all seeming to want to pour himself a drink. James looked at him. He wore a wide-brimmed hat, had a long beard, glasses, and a large, round nose.

"Hello, James," he said, and James' eyes widened.

"Caradoc? Caradoc Dearborn, is that you?"

"Quietly, boy, are you crazy?" He turned, peered side to side from under his hat, and looked back at James. "But yes, it is I. Caradoc Dearborn, in disg-"

"You look dumb."

Caradoc glared. "I am in disguise!"

"You should have chosen a less dumb-looking disguise."

"It is not dumb."

"That is the fakest face I've seen in my life."

"Stop insulting my disguise," he hissed. He looked side to side again. "I'm here undercover."

"Right."

"You might be thinking to yourself, why is Caradoc always undercover?"

"I'm not."

"Undercover as an auror, undercover as a Death Eater, you must be wondering how I manage to do it all!"

"I'm really not."

"And it's tough, James," said Caradoc, nodding somberly. "It's a really taxing lifestyle. But do you know what my goal is when I get out of bed each morning?"

"Caradoc, why are you here?"

"To save lives!" Caradoc grinned widely. "That was clever, you see, because it works on both fronts." James said nothing. "It answers your question, _and_ it answered my one." Still nothing. Caradoc sighed. "Alright, fine. Morgan Bulstrode, Eugenia Jenkins' number two and the temporary Minister of Magic, is here at this party. I'm sure it has been relayed to you that he is a Death Eater affiliate. He's formed an alliance with the Head of the Auror Department, who is technically my boss, Emmett Fawley. Now pay attention, James, because this is where it gets complicated."

"I'm pretty sure I know all this already."

"Pay attention, please. A man called Blithe has been feeding Ministry information to the Death Eaters for months, and we suspect he is none other than Emmett Fawley."

"Yeah, I think Frank told me."

"Please, James, I'll answer your questions at the end. Now, Fawley and Bulstrode were both running for Minister, to be the _real_ Minister, not just acting Minister. But when Sawyer Hughes, a great man who-"

"I met him. On Christmas Eve, last week."

"Excuse me, James. A great man who every sane person respects, started running for Minister, Bulstrode and Fawley were both instantly outvoted, and so they pooled their votes together, further validating the theory that Fawley is not on our side. Now it is only a matter of time before Sawyer does beat them out and takes the top job, but we want to quicken that process as much as possible. Opportunities to corner Bulstrode are rare, and we might not get a better opportunity to get evidence on Fawley. So I have taken it upon myself to go to… _unofficial_ lengths for a confession. All I need is an accomplice. Are you in?"

James fixed him with a look. "You could have literally asked me that from the start, and I would have said yes. This entire conversation has been unnecessary."

Caradoc beamed. "Look at that. We have some team banter already." He turned and started walking, and James followed a step behind.

"How do you even know Bulstrode's here?"

"I've been following him since Christmas."

James made a face. "You've spent your break stalking a politician?"

"Justice never takes breaks, my dear boy."

"And why do you have to wear a disguise?"

"Because I'm about to threaten the acting Minister of Magic with violence, and that's not good for your health."

James nodded. "Right." They passed through a number of corridors. Caradoc walked swiftly and purposefully, his wand out, and James pulled his own wand from his pocket. "So what do you need me to do?"

Caradoc stopped by an open door suddenly, and James bumped into him. Caradoc peered in, James followed suit. It was a small, dark room, and inside was Morgan Bulstrode, pacing back and forth. "Guard the door," Caradoc whispered.

He rushed into the room, slammed the door shut behind him, and James heard yelling and crashing furniture and more yelling. James hastily put his back to the door and looked left and right. The corridor was empty. He held his wand aloft and listened.

"Who are you?" cried a voice, strained and alarmed.

"I'll ask the questions," roared Caradoc. There was another crash, and the voice cried out again.

"Someone will hear this," the voice yelled in pain. "Someone will come in here and stop you, and I promise that you will never see the light of day again!"

"Nonsense," said Caradoc. "I have my best fighter outside, guarding that door. I assure you, we will _not_ be interrupted."

James' throat dried. From around the corner, he heard footsteps. He clutched his wand tighter, held it up. Licked his lips.

Lily turned the corner. James groaned internally, and she smiled unsurely as she approached. "There you are, Potter. Have you seen Marlene?"

James smiled back tightly. "She and Sirius took off not too long ago."

"Together?"

"Yep."

She reached him and winced. "_No_. Oh, she's going to regret that in the morning."

Despite himself, James scowled. "Why? What's there to regret?"

"I can't tell you, alright? I can just guarantee that she's really going to regret it."

James made to respond derisively, but a thud came from inside the room and he straightened. "Look, now's not a good time for this, Evans," he said, trying to keep his voice from sounding suspicious. Even after all these years, he still didn't know how to do that.

There was another cry of pain from inside.

"Answer me," Caradoc yelled.

Lily stared. "Potter, who's in there?"

He hesitated. "No one."

"Please," cried the voice. "Stop!"

The sound of a punch, hard. "Shut up, filth!"

Lily made to grab the door handle and James caught her arm. "Evans…"

"Let go of me, Potter."

"I can't let you in."

"I said _let go_."

"Promise me you won't try to open the door again."

"I promise to put you in St Mungo's if you don't let go right now."

"Evans, come on-"

"I'm dead serious, Potter, I will put you in the hospital."

He quickly let go. "Okay. Just don't open th-"

She opened the door. Saw Morgan Bulstrode bent backwards over a table, Caradoc holding him by the collar with his wand to his throat. The two men paused and looked over.

"Greetings," said Caradoc cordially.

"Help me," said Bulstrode frantically, trying to push Caradoc's wand from his neck. "I am your Minister of Magic-"

"Temporarily," said Caradoc, keeping his wand at his throat.

"-please, this man is attacking me! Help!"

Lily looked at James, speechless.

"There is a fantastic explanation for all this," James told her.

"I'm not explaining it all again," said Caradoc. "You didn't appreciate it the first time."

Upon hearing his voice, Lily peered at him. "Caradoc?"

Caradoc shook his head. "Nope."

Bulstrode peered at him now, too. "The auror? Caradoc Dearborn?"

"I am Caradoc Periwinkle. I am asked that all the time, though. It is a common mix-up."

Lily looked at James with a raised eyebrow. James nodded.

"Oh," said Bulstrode. "My mistake."

"Not to worry," said Caradoc.

They were all quiet for a few seconds.

"Can one of you please close the door?" Caradoc asked the teens politely. James closed it behind them, and the room went got darker. "Thank you."

Caradoc lifted Bulstrode and slammed him back onto the table. "Who is Blithe?" he yelled.

"Who the bleeding hell is Blithe?" Bulstrode spluttered.

Caradoc shook him. "Don't get smart with me, Bulstrode!"

"No," said Bulstrode, "I mean I really don't know who this Blithe is! I've never heard that name before, I swear!"

Caradoc paused. "Oh." He stepped back. "Lumos." His wand lit up the room, and James could see them all clearly now. Bulstrode got off the table slowly, straightening his collar. "Get back on that table," said Caradoc quietly.

Bulstrode immediately got back down, trying to get into the same uncomfortable position. "Like this?"

"It was more at an angle."

The Minister shifted. "This?"

"Perfect. Stay like that."

Lily cleared her throat.

Caradoc looked at the teens. "This simplifies things, I suppose. I just have a few more questions for him. Is anyone watching the door?"

"No."

Caradoc scratched his head. "Alright. I'll make this quick then, I suppose." He pointed his wand at Bulstrode again, the shadows in the room shifting as the only light source was moved. "How involved is Emmett Fawley with the Death Eaters?"

Busltrode's eyes bugged. "Emmett Fawley is a Death Eater?"

"You didn't know? Then why did you ally yourself with him? Why did the two of you pool your votes together?"

"He approached me," said Bulstrode. "I was surprised, too. As far as I knew, he hated me, and all those I associate with."

"Death Eaters."

"_Traditionalists_."

Caradoc snorted. "Keep your facade up, if you really must. But why did he approach you?"

"Fawley wants to be Minister, and even though he loathes me and my associates, or at least I thought he did before today, he will go to any lengths to get the job. Even if it means collaborating with me. Our relationship is anything but friendly, I assure you, although if I had known that he is one of us-"

"One of you?"

Bulstrode froze.

"Morgan," said Caradoc, smiling widely, "you are the Minister of Magic."

"Temporary Minister of Magic," Bulstrode whispered.

"Did you just confess to being a Death Eater?"

"No."

"I think I have sufficient grounds to arrest you, here and now."

"You aren't an auror," said Bulstrode, licking his lips.

Caradoc's grin widened. "You are going to tell me everything, and I do mean everything, or you can kiss your political career goodbye."

"You have no proof of anything. I said something silly, so what? I can't be convicted for that!"

"Perhaps not," said Caradoc. "But we can try. And when we do try, who will be temporary Minister in your place? If Dumbledore calls for a vote while you are being convicted, who will be able to stop Sawyer Hughes from finally becoming our _real_ Minister? Fawley?"

Bulstrode suddenly broke into a smile, the first smile James had seen from him that night. "That is your plan? To keep me detained? Well, why didn't you just say so? I would have told you not to waste your time. Our meeting is at an end, I'm afraid."

Caradoc pushed the glowing tip of his wand into the flesh of Bulstrode's throat, and the room darkened while Bulstrode's throat glowed from within. "If you try to apparate from here, you will regret it. Trust me."

"You misunderstand me, Mr Periwinkle. I'm not going to apparate. I am the Minister of Magic - apparition is below me."

"Temporary Minister of Magic," said Caradoc, narrowing his eyes.

Bulstrode's smile grew. "I came to this party simply to show face, appear in a few pictures for the morning's paper. I am the people's Minister, after all. These things are important. But I am also a very busy man, and I have a very important meeting to attend quite soon. You will not be able to stop me, Mr Periwinkle."

Caradoc turned to Lily and James, as serious as James had seen him. "He has a portkey somewhere in this room. Find it."

James blinked and nodded, and he and Lily set about immediately, scanning the ground, the walls, for anything that could be a portkey. Caradoc lifted his wand from Bulstrode's neck, leaving an angry mark on the skin, and held it up, illuminating the room once more.

"It could be anything," said Lily, throwing aside a quill. "How will we even know when we find it?"

"There will be a special quality to it," said Caradoc, scanning the ground himself. "It will be close by to Bulstrode, too. Within easy reach."

Bulstrode was chuckling. "Time has run out for you, I'm afraid. I'm about to leave."

Lily looked up at him. "Caradoc," she said, "if the portkey is small, small enough to fit in his pocket, let's say, would he still have to touch it? Or would that be enough for him to be transported away?"

Caradoc looked at her for a few moments, his brow furrowed, and then he gazed at Bulstrode, who had stopped chuckling. "Grab him," he said.

The three lunged towards Bulstrode, the teens grabbing his arms while Caradoc grabbed him by the collar again, and Bulstrode struggled to break free. "Get off me! Get- _off_-"

"Will just holding him do the trick?" James asked hurriedly. "We're not touching the portkey."

"It should be enough," said Caradoc, tightening his hold on Bulstrode's collar enough to make the man gag.

And it was.

Suddenly, James felt a pull at his navel, and he felt his insides yanked as though caught by a fishing rod, and he shut his eyes tight, feeling his body flying through space, and his feet hit the ground hard and there was noise all around him and the yanking stopped, though his stomach still ached.

He opened his eyes. The four of them were in the middle of a city, with flashing lights pushing the darkness of the night off the streets, keeping it at bay to the twinkling stars above. Loud music played wherever James turned his head, and raucous, olive-skinned people were all around them. The writing on every shop and sign in the crowded city square were in a language James couldn't understand. Spanish?

"Where are we?" he asked.

"Portugal," said Bulstrode miserably. "I've gone and brought you with me to Portugal."

"It's your own fault," said Caradoc, looking around at their surroundings with interest. "If you had just shut up, we wouldn't even know about your portkey."

Bulstrode hung his head.

Caradoc's gaze settled on a spot further on and he set off, dragging Bulstrode along behind him. James and Lily followed. They reached one of the many bars lining the area, packed full of merry drinkers singing and prattling away to each other. One of the tables outside was empty, and Caradoc pushed Bulstrode down into a seat. He sat on the other side, and James and Lily joined him.

"So, Morgan, the way I see it you have very little choice now. You will give us all the information we need, sell out all your little Death Eater friends, or I make you an appointment with some Dementors and see where that gets us. Your political career will be the last of your concerns. What will it be?"

"I'll tell you everything," Bulstrode said immediately. "Whatever you want to know. I can even be a spy for you, among the Death Eaters. Because I am a Death Eater, you're right. Let's get out of here first, though."

Caradoc waved a hand. "We don't need a spy, believe me. And it's not as fun as it sounds.. No, we have plenty of information already. Something tells me, though, that you know some things that even I don't. Especially considering how trusted you are in these circles."

"I'll brief you on everything, I swear," Bulstrode said. "But we need to go right now. I'm telling you, if I'm going to help you guys then I _can't be here_."

"Too late, I'm afraid," came a deep and smooth voice from behind Bulstrode. A man approached. He had dark skin, and wore aviator sunglasses and a velvet tuxedo. Caradoc stiffened beside James. Bulstrode's face slackened, and he looked down at the table with the eyes of a dead man. The newcomer placed his hands on Bulstrode's shoulders and surveyed Caradoc and the teens. "My employer will be very interested to hear about this, you see. So we must be leaving."

"You are not leaving here with that man," Caradoc said quietly.

A frown. "I'm sorry, have we met before? Your voice is familiar."

Caradoc said nothing.

"I'm assuming I've tried to kill you at some point. When was that, I wonder? Was it recent?"

Caradoc still said nothing.

"It must have been recent. You seem worried, my friend. Worried that I'll recognize you under that disguise? Because it clearly is a disguise."

James took his wand from his pocket, rested its tip on the table casually but obviously. "We won't let you take Bulstrode."

The man surveyed him, amused. "You're going to stop me, are you? Look around, boy. Are you prepared to turn this street into a battlefield? Prepared to break the Statute of Secrecy in front of all these people, expose magic to the Muggles once and for all? I am. I'm more than happy to change the world forever, here and now. Are you?"

"You'd do all that just to take one person?" asked Lily, looking at the man disbelievingly.

"Of course," the man said. "This is the Minister of Magic, after all."

"Temporary Minister of Magic," Bulstrode mumbled.

James looked hard at the man, then past him, at the Muggles all around them, counting them all, calculating how quietly he could take the man out. He lifted his wand.

"No," said Caradoc gruffly, staying James' hand. "We can't."

The dark-skinned man looked at Caradoc with intense curiosity. "This is going to frustrate me later, you know. I expect I'll realize who you are right when you're no longer in front of me." He sighed. "Regardless, I'll take my leave now. I do so despise idle chatter."

With a crack, he vanished into thin air, taking Bulstrode with him. The now empty chair rattled on the floor a little before settling. None of the Muggles seemed to notice the two men disappearing.

"Who was that?" James asked.

"Taureau Barkley," said Caradoc grimly, getting to his feet.

"And who is he?"

"Trouble. Always trouble." Caradoc let out a breath, and looked at Lily and James. "I'm going to contact Sawyer, try and see if he can authorize a portkey for us to get out of here. You two stay right there, I won't be long." He walked off, and was quickly lost to the crowd.

Lily was looking at James. He raised an eyebrow at her, and she bit her lip. "I was wrong," she said abruptly.

"Um…"

"About everything I said earlier," she explained. "They were all thoughts that have occurred to me over the last few days, but now... now I reckon I've figured it out. Things get ruined. I see that, and I reckon it's a stupid thing to try and run away from. When there's a thing that's really good, yes, it would be awful to ruin, but it would be even more awful, no, _painful_, to not indulge it."

James had to wonder why she'd insisted on speaking in riddles the entire night. He stared into her eyes, green and mesmerizing. "And what is this good thing that you want to indulge, Evans?"

Hey eyes twinkled, and her smile, confident yet shy in the most beautiful way, made James feel like he'd been seized by a portkey again. "Us," she said. "I want to indulge us, Potter."

And there it was. After all this time, this whole day, these last few months, these last few _years_, her words were the sweetest, most fulfilling sound to ever reach James' ears.

He was grinning, and he couldn't control it. His face was seized by the grin. He opened his mouth, but faltered when all the Muggles in the bar, in the street and all around them, suddenly grew excited, their chattering growing louder and uncontainable.

"What's going on?" he asked.

Lily was looking behind him. He turned, saw a clock hanging from a street lamp. "I think," she said, "it's not quite yet midnight here."

James' eyes widened. "Time Zones."

She nodded, biting her lip.

"Dez," everyone in the city seemed to yell as one.

James locked eyes with her, and he couldn't have looked away if he'd wanted to. They'd been given another chance.

"Nove!"

His throat was dry, his lips were dry. His hands clenched on his knees.

"Oito!"

She blew a strand of hair off her forehead.

"Sete!"

"Seis!"

"Cinco!"

His knowledge of Spanish was poor, and how that translated to Portuguese was even poorer. Be that as it may, "Quatro!" was clearly four. He saw the recognition in Lily's eyes, too. Her inescapably beautiful green eyes.

"Três!"

She started leaning in, her face growing closer, and James matched the movement, engraving every detail of her face at this proximity into his memory. Every freckle and dimple, every crease by her eyes as she smiled at him.

"Dois!"

He could feel her breath on his face, could make out the individual flecks of green in the iris of her eyes. Their noses almost touched.

"Um!"

They both tilted their heads, leaned that last bit further in, their lips a hair's breadth apart, one twitch away, and then they paused for the final, exuberant beat.

"Feliz Ano Novo!"

Their lips crashed together, and it was like a man had been pushing the plates of the Earth's crust apart all this time before finally giving into the pressure, letting nature take its course, for their kiss felt violent, seismic, and inevitable. They pushed at each other, and pushed and pushed, just like they always had, incessantly and unrelentingly, and when they reached the breaking point their lips opened and their tongues clashed, swiping and tumbling. Lily's hand was in James' hair, and he took her by the waist and pulled her into him, their chests pressed against each other. She moaned against his lips, a release, and James pulled her even tighter against him, his tongue probing further. She tasted of the whisky they'd drank, and her hair, so red and captivating, smelled of the shampoo of hers he had once paid Marlene thirty Galleons to steal for him, on a particularly pathetic day in Fourth Year. The scent of pine and the sweetness of vanilla. He still hadn't told her about that.

He cradled the back of her head with one hand, relishing the chance to finally run his fingers through those red locks, committing every sensation, of her lips and her tongue, her nose and cheek and forehead pressed against his own, her hair in his hands and her breath in his mouth, to memory.

He knew her every movement, because it mirrored his own. He supposed it always had. So when it came to an end, the two broke the kiss at the same time, leaned back a fraction and looked into each other's eyes with the same intensity and passion, and though James was no stranger to being hopelessly in love with her, he had never before felt it more strongly than at that moment.

They both let out breaths, and then shaky laughs, and Lily leaned back further. "Happy new year, Potter."

James smiled, taking in her frazzled hair, dilated pupils, and red face. Oh, how he loved her. "Happy new year, Evans."

She seemed surprised that she was almost on his lap, and moved back further, sitting properly on her own seat. She looked at him and her eyes twinkled again, her smile radiant. "Definitely worth indulging, right?"

He had to stop himself from lunging back in to indulge again, and simply smiled back. "Definitely."

"A second new year," said Caradoc in bemusement as he emerged from the crowd with a brown leather shoe in hand. "Don't see that too often. Are you two ready to go?"

They shared one last look before turning back to Caradoc. "Yeah," said Lily. "I think we are."


	20. The Horizon

A man stood guard by the door. There was a gun on his hip, and a black device in his hand with an antenna sticking out of it.

Blithe removed the disillusionment charm from himself and watched the man's eyes widen in alarm, hand reaching for the deadly weapon.

"What the- who are you? Stop right there!"

"Guns," said Blithe lightly, walking towards the man at a leisurely pace, "are among your kind's most foul inventions. A device with no purpose other than to inflict pain. To take life."

The man lifted the gun, levelling it right at Blithe. "Not one more step!"

"And yet, it serves as a most elegant representation of your kind's limitations. Where there is a problem, you kill it. No finesse, no diplomacy. Just the flashy pretences of a creature no different from the apes that crawled out of the mud."

A gunshot, but Blithe had moved suddenly, so quickly that the man's eyes didn't flicker back to him until Blithe's hand was around his throat, lifting him off the ground. The gun went off again, Blithe heard it just by his ear, and with his other hand he grabbed the man's wrist and pushed it until the barrel of the gun was touching the man's temple.

"You like inflicting pain, don't you?" he whispered. "A part of you, try as you might to conceal it, to smother and bury it within yourself, wants to thrash around, to bathe in the blood, see _hurt_ in another's eyes."

The man gurgled, his face red.

"You don't have to admit it. I've seen it for myself. Experienced it." He dropped the man, watched him fall to his knees, suck in deep lungfuls of air. The gun clattered to the floor, as did the black device from his other hand. A voice rang out from the black device, distorted and grating, and Blithe could barely make out any words. "I will grant you, though, your innovation in the absence of magic is impressive. What do you call this device?"

"A walkie-talkie," the man gasped.

Blithe raised his eyebrows. "I take that back. _Walkie-talkie?_ Merlin, Muggles really are dull."

The man's hand was crawling towards the gun. Blithe let it get close enough, let his fingers graze the metal, before grabbing a fistful of the man's hair and yanking his head back. He took his wand out and held it to the man's throat. "I want to kill you," he said, gazing into his face. "I'm sorely tempted. But it would cause some unnecessary complications. A memory charm will have to suffice. You'll live the rest of your meaningless life without ever knowing how little you deserve it. Without ever remembering this feeling of being powerless, this insurmountable truth of your kind's inferiority." There was no understanding in the man's eyes. No comprehension or appreciation for the weight behind Blithe's words. Just the fear of a cattle stuck in the crosshairs of some untouchable predator. That would have to be enough, Blithe supposed with a sigh. "Obliviate."

The eyes clouded over, and the man sagged. Blithe left him on the ground and opened the door. The Muggle Prime Minister looked up from his desk, frowned at him. "Can I help you?"

Blithe closed the door behind him. Looked immediately at the portrait hanging on the wall, of a man with a silver wig. The man's eyes widened. "You. You are not authorized to be here. I must alert the Minister-"

"Morgan Bulstrode is currently unavailable," said Blithe lightly. "And he was never the Minister."

"What is he busy with that he would send _you_ in his place?" the man asked, sounding suspicious.

"He is busy dealing with the consequences of his actions. You will not be seeing him again."

"What's going on here?" asked the Prime Minister, looking flummoxed. "Are you one of them? One of those magicians?"

"Wizards," Blithe said quietly.

"Yes, yes. What's this about Bulstrode? Was he sacked?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes."

At that, the man with the silver wig had heard enough and made to leave his portrait from its side, presumably to check into his portrait at the Ministry. Blithe raised his wand to the portrait, his sleeve whipping from the swiftness of the movement, and there was a flash of light. The man froze in his frame, so still one might think he was only a Muggle painting.

"Do you think memory charms work on portraits?" he asked the Minister, tilting his head, wand still lifted.

"I- I haven't the slightest."

"Hm. Certainly an ordinary charm won't suffice. But perhaps if I augment it a little bit…" He closed his eyes, streamlining his thoughts into a spell, shaping and moulding a new memory charm through intent and deliberation. When he was done he opened his eyes, and there was another flash of light. The portrait seemed untouched, but that was to be expected. Satisfied, he pocketed his wand. "That should do the trick, I think. I overdid it, so he might not even remember his identity after this, but there's nothing to be done about that."

The Minister was still staring at him, the papers and folders sitting on his desk abandoned.

"So, my dear Minister, what brings you into the office at three in the morning on the first day of the new year?"

The Minister folded his arms. "Business. Reports and… and things."

"Is that right? You didn't get into another fight with your wife?"

The Minister's brow furrowed, and he looked astonished then quickly outraged. "How do you know that? That's my private- that's _personal! _How dare you spy on me?"

Blithe snorted and sat in the only empty chair, facing the Minister from across the desk. "It's common knowledge, my friend. Your _bodyguards_ know about your marriage problems. Did you really sleep in the office on Christmas day?" He held up a hand. "Don't answer. I saw their memories. I know you did, you sad, sad man."

The Minister colored, his face boiling. "My business is none of your concern. Who are you, anyway?"

"Who I am doesn't matter. Not really. I'm just here to make sure everything goes according to plan. Bulstrode's, ah, removal from office was unexpected. The plan has accelerated somewhat."

"Plan? What plan?"

"Can I rely on your discretion, Minister? Can I depend on your ability to co-operate and do as you're told?" The Minister opened his mouth and Blithe laughed. "Who am I kidding? Of course I can't. _Imperio._"

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Marlene woke up on the morning of January first, and took in a deep breath of Sirius Black. She opened her eyes wide. _Shit._

He lay next to her, his head resting on her pillow, his black hair as tousled and unruly as ever. She distinctly remembered running her hands through that hair only hours earlier.

_Shit._

His eyes were closed and he was sleeping soundly. Angelically. Oh, this would not do. This would not do at all.

She elbowed him hard in the side.

"Argh!" He bolted upright and looked around frantically before settling his gaze on her, his expression reproachful. "Good morning to you, too, McKinnon."

"Out," she said, panic crawling into her pounding head. "You need to go, Black. Now."

She rolled out of bed. She wore only knickers and a loose shirt - his shirt from last night, she realized with a groan - and with all the dignity she could muster, she put her hands on her hips. "I'm serious, Black, you can't be here."

He looked affronted at first, which turned into a strong, venomous scowl. "You're unceremoniously kicking me out, just like that? _You_ came onto _me_ last night, McKinnon. I was happy to simply go along with it. Don't you do this now. I was perfectly fine with us just being friends."

"You think I wanted this to happen?"

"You said, and I quote, _'I've really wanted this to happen, Black.' _How else was I supposed to interpret that?"

She colored. She did remember saying that. "Look, it doesn't matter. I just need you to leave right now."

He rolled out of her bed, looking furious. He was naked, and she kept her eyes determinedly on his face. And then on his chest, and his abdomen, then trailing down to marvel at- _his face. _She was looking at his face and nothing else. She didn't want to guess how red she'd gotten, and luckily Sirius was looking anywhere but at her as he fumed silently.

He picked his pants up off the floor and slipped into them, before he finally looked at her flatly. "I need my shirt."

She bit her lip. "Do you?"

"What?"

"Right," she said quickly, "your shirt. Okay. Turn around, would you?" He turned and she tugged his shirt off her light frame, threw it over to him. She quickly grabbed one of her own tops strewn haphazardly on the ground and pulled it on. "You can turn back around now."

He didn't bother. Simply shook his head and walked to the door. "I can't believe you, McKinnon. I liked you, properly liked you, but you say we're only friends. Then you go and come onto me, make me think we're on the same page… and now you pull _this?_ You're the last person I expected this rubbish from."

Suddenly, she wanted to explain herself.

"My parents will go ballistic if they see you," she said hurriedly. "It's a big house, but still. I can't take the risk. There's too much at stake."

He stopped and turned to look at her. Her face was still red, she could feel it. "What are you on about, McKinnon?"

"It's bigger than just me and you. Regardless of how I might feel, there's a reason that what happened last night _shouldn't_ have happened, and why it can't happen again. Each time I've rejected you, I've never explained why. There's a reason. A reason why until last night, I've insisted we can't be anything more than just friends."

He raised an eyebrow. "Your parents won't approve of me. Is that it?"

"No."

"Because that's hardly a new problem for me. I've run into disapproving parents more times than I can count."

"It's not that."

"Are you worried that they'll like me too _much_? Because that's happened quite often too, I'm afraid. Just ask James. Although I doubt he'll admit it. He's still in denial, the poor thing."

"Black."

"It's really quite sad. I promise you, though, I can dial back the charm. It won't be easy, because it's not the sort of thing I have much control over - have you seen this face?"

"Black."

"But I'm more than happy to try. I _like _you, McKinnon, and I reckon you like me too. Why shouldn't two people who like each other just be tog-"

Marlene stomped her foot and sighed heavily. "Black."

"_What?_"

"I'm engaged."

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Regulus was in a dark room, deep under the ground. It was a winding maze of corridors down there, filled with Death Eaters and stale air, mold and spiders, all of the sickly things that thrived in the cold and the dark.

In this room with him were some of his classmates. Snape, Mulciber, Rosier, Travers, Dolohov Junior, and Avery. Elsewhere around the room were the faces of prolific Death Eaters such as Regulus' cousin Bellatrix, a couple of the Malfoys, Nott, Macnair, one of the Selwyns. In front of the teenagers was a body, unmoving. A brown sack covered its head, tied at the neck. From behind Regulus came Lord Voldemort's voice.

"You are all talented. All capable." His voice, without being raised, was chilling. A knife could have been run along Regulus' back with each word. "You have the purest of blood, too. Old blood. Noble." Though his footsteps made no noise, Regulus knew somehow that the Dark Lord was walking around them. He could feel it. "Joining our ranks is no small matter. It is the greatest honor, an irreversible commitment."

He stopped in front of them, and Regulus looked at him. His eyes looked almost scarlet by the light of the room's one lamp, which glowed with a dim green. His skin was stretched so tightly over his bones that he might as well have been a skull in a robe. He was a snake of a man, impossible and deadly and terrifying. Regulus swallowed.

"Today, before we finally, completely welcome you into our fold, I shall demonstrate to you just how irreversible and final this commitment is." He pointed to the body.

"The man before you thought he could betray us without consequences. He thought the mark on his arm is for show, and easily forgotten." He looked at Regulus then, right into his eyes. "Regulus. As you are a Black, I have no doubt about your dedication and willingness to serve. I am told, though, that you were not present at the battle of Síla."

Regulus licked his lips. "I was hesitant, my lord. My resolve was lacking. But now I am yours. I give all of myself to you."

Voldemort nodded like he'd expected this answer, and gestured to the body. "Then you shall demonstrate to us all. Kill this man, Regulus."

Regulus looked at the body. "He's… alive?"

"Oh, yes. Bella had strict instructions to leave him sane and breathing." Bellatrix pouted at his words from where she stood. "_You_ shall do the honors, Regulus. Have you ever used the spell?"

He shook his head.

"It's quite simple," said Voldemort, in an encouraging, silky voice Regulus had never heard from him before. "I'm sure you know the words. All you have to do is mean them."

Regulus nodded. He reached for his wand, fumbled it. Pulled it out on the second try and pointed it at the man. Seconds passed. Regulus' mind went blank. No intent, no desire. He didn't have it in him.

Voldemort seemed to figure this out too, and sighed. "I made it quite easy for you. You didn't even have to look at his face, into his _eyes._ But perhaps you are a more practical learner. One who needs engagement." He flicked his wand, and the brown sack vanished from around the man's head. The other teens inhaled sharply and Regulus froze.

"Morgan Bulstrode," he whispered. "That's the Minister of Magic."

"Temporary Minister of Magic," Voldemort corrected. "And, much like Eugenia Jenkins before him, his time has now come to an abrupt and _unfortunate_ end. In his absence, and with enough time and careful planning, his post will be filled by a man who we call Blithe."

"Is this Blithe one of ours?" asked Dolohov Junior.

"Oh, very much so. A most invaluable spy amongst our enemies. Certainly more useful than this traitor turned out to be." Voldemort turned his wand on the man once more, and Bulstrodes eyes opened. He sat bolt upright in a state of panic, looked around frantically. "Now, Regulus. Kill him."

Bulstrode snapped his head to them and bleated. "Have mercy! My lord, please! I would never betray you, I swear it!"

"_Now_, Regulus."

Bulstrode turned to Regulus, his eyes filling with tears. "Boy. Boy, please! I have a family. A daughter!"

"You have no children," said Lucious Malfoy, leaning against the wall and looking bored. "No family. No friends to miss you."

"I have a brother," said Bulstrode, still looking at Regulus with pleading, desperate eyes. "I have friends. I want to live, boy, please!"

There was no choice. Regulus knew there was no choice. What he had to do went against every instinct in his heart, but his mind knew better, knew the consequences for disobeying the Dark Lord. That is where he drew his intent from, so that when he finally said it, he meant it. "Avada Kedavra."

The room lit up for a brief moment, and then Bulstrode hit the ground once more, the life having left his body.

Voldemort was smiling, an evil, sick smile. "Well _done_, Regulus. Well done indeed."

There would be no disobeying the Dark Lord. Regulus knew that now. The rest of his life would see him obeying every order, fulfilling every request, and it was a fate that there could be no escape from. All this and more was made clear to him as he kneeled with the other teens in front of Voldemort, their forearms extended. Voldemort moved from arm to arm, tapping his wand to them and smiling cruelly as each boy hissed and cried out when that small patch of skin on their arms boiled and contorted.

When Regulus' turn came, there was one thing in particular that drove home to him that he could never, ever turn back now.

It was pain. Blinding, excruciating pain.

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Lily stared at the pile of dishes with pursed lips, and the pile of dishes stared back. In just a few weeks, she would turn seventeen. In a few weeks, she would never have to wash a dish by hand again. With only a flick of her wand, they would all be done. These past six years, every time Lily was faced with a pile of dishes her wand would call to her from her back pocket, begging to be used, and she would always have to refuse it. But not for much longer. Not for much longer…

"Oh, Lily, just get on with it," cajoled her mother as she walked through the kitchen. "It only takes so long because you waste so much time."

"In just a few weeks," Lily began-

"I know, dear. You'll just magic the dishes away. But until then, you really must make do."

"Just do what I do," said Mr Evans from the dining table. "Get a wife and daughter, and it's like the dishes aren't even there."

Mrs Evans looked at him. "Actually, Lily, don't worry about the dishes. Your father will take care of them."

Mr Evans blinked. "I will?"

"You will."

"But I'm not sure I know _how_ to wash dishes."

"You'll pick it up, dear. You're awfully clever."

Lily simply shook her head and walked from the kitchen, smiling a little as Mr Evans stood from the table and tried to placate his wife. "I was joking, honest! Don't make me wash the dishes."

"No, you've reminded me how little housework you really do. Look at the floor, it's filthy."

"It's spotless," Mr Evans protested.

"It's filthy and you need to clean it."

Lily tuned her parents out and wandered over to the sitting room. She picked a book off the table and curled up on the couch. With her return to Hogwarts imminent, she was making sure to relish the quiet moments, as she knew that very soon they would once again be few and far between. She opened the book.

There was a knock on the door, two sharp raps.

Scowling, Lily put the book back down and got up, marched to the door. She opened it and stared.

"Alright, Evans?"

Oh, for Merlin's sake. _Again?_

"Potter," she said slowly, ignoring the way her heartbeat became suddenly erratic at the sight of the messy haired boy. "What are you doing here?"

His lips curved upwards. She'd kissed those lips the last time they'd been this close. "Just thought I'd pop by. There was something I wanted to ask you."

Oh, Merlin. Oh, no. She wasn't ready. She hadn't had time to think about this, it was too soon, it was-

"Is Marlene really engaged?"

She froze.

He was looking at her seriously.

"What?"

"It's just," he rubbed his neck, "Sirius went home with her on New Year's, and when they woke up yesterday morning she kicked him out and told him she's _engaged._ Is… is it true?"

Lily bit her lip, smothering her feelings, and chose her words carefully. "What else did Black tell you?"

"Aside from Marlene being engaged? Well-"

"Marlene's _engaged?_" Mrs Evans materialized by Lily's side in a flash. "How wonderful! Oh, that's so exciting! Hello, James. It's very nice to see you again."

James gave her a charming smile, but faltered when Lily's dad appeared on her other side.

"Potter," he said with narrowed eyes, folding his arms. "Have you come to steal my only daughter away again?"

"We have another daughter, dear," whispered his wife.

Mr Evans' eyes widened and he paled. "Shit, that's right."

James coughed pointedly while Mrs Evans gave her husband a sharp look for his language. "No, Mr Evans, I haven't."

"Please, Potter, call me sir," said Mr Evans.

Lily rolled her eyes. "He's not here to steal me away, Dad. He just wants to know something about Marlene."

"Yes, yes, we all want to know about Marlene," said Mrs Evans. "Please come in, James. I'll make tea, and then we can all hear Lily's story."

"This really isn't a group thing," said Lily flatly.

"Nonsense, Lily, James wants us there. Don't you, James?"

James hesitated. "Uh…"

"See? Now come on in, James. The sitting room's that way. How do you like your tea?"

He stepped in, looking unsure. "Sweet?"

"Wonderful. Any biscuit preferences?"

"Not really."

"Splendid. Lily, show him to the sitting room, won't you?"

If Lily had written a list of settings she'd least like to talk to James in only a day after kissing him, the sitting room with her parents would have been at the very, very bottom. She closed her eyes, mustering all her patience, and looked at James with a pained expression.

He gave her a reassuring look as they walked to the sitting room. "My parents are easily more mental than yours," he whispered, "so don't worry. If anything, I find this rather tame."

She smiled at him. He had a silver tongue, that boy.

Lily's dad had already sat and made himself comfortable, and was watching the two of them with a frown. "Lily," he said, "you sit over there. On the far couch. Potter, I want you next to me."

"Dad," she said through gritted teeth.

"I'm sorry, Lily, but it's for your own good."

James smiled a little. "No problem." He sat down next to Lily's father, and Lily couldn't have felt more uncomfortable about it.

She watched them from her seat, watched her mother walk in with a tray of tea and biscuits, watched James thank her, smile and make a joke, and her mother laugh and pat him on the back. Her father said something dumb, and James said something awkward with a smile, and slowly Lily found that there was actually something that seemed... comfortable about it. Bizarrely, by some stroke of brilliant luck, James seemed to fit right in with her nutball parents. Or maybe it wasn't luck. Maybe it was just James.

But oh, she _really_ wished her parents weren't there right then.

"So," said Mrs Evans, settling down next to her, "tell us, Lily. What's this about Marlene being engaged? She's a wonderful girl, but she's a bit young, isn't she?"

Lily breathed heavily. "Seeing as Black went and told you," she said to James, "I'm assuming that Mar's fine with it being out now. It could only have been a secret for so long anyway, so I guess it's fine to tell you all. Yes, Marlene is engaged. She has been for quite some time now." She surveyed James again. "How much did she tell Black about it?"

James shrugged. "Sirius wasn't too keen to talk about it with me. He just came home briefly, looking all wound up, and told me the one thing. Marlene is engaged. Then he turned on the spot and apparated to who knows where. I need to know what's going on."

Lily nodded. She'd expected as much. "I can imagine he didn't take it well. Alice and I didn't, when she told us back in Fourth Year. It's… a frustrating story."

"Frustrating how?"

Lily sighed, and tried to think back to how Marlene had started it back then.

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Arranged marriages were old hat to Pure-blood families. Ever since the famed marriage of Achernar Black to Telephassa, the last daughter of the legendary Peverell family, they had become something of a tradition. The purity of one's blood was deciphered not just by how far back their lineage could go, but also by the specific union of their parents. Gaunt to a Selwyn, Prewett to an Olivander, Potter to a Greengrass. Where before, two Pure-bloods could be just as pure as one another, suddenly they were not. The union of Rodolphus Lestrange and Bellatrix Black was seen as better, _purer_, than the marriage of Amos Diggery and Belle MacDougal.

So far as that scale of purity went, the McKinnon family ranked somewhere close to the bottom. They were Pure-bloods, but the McKinnon name was nastily common among Muggles. It could only mean that someone in the family, a long time ago, had messed up, casting doubt upon all future generations of McKinnons forever more.

_Rather dramatic, isn't that, Lily dear?_

_That's just how she told us the story, Mum. _

_Hang on, Evans. Lestrange and Black, and Diggery and MacDougal, they all only got married recently. How could she have told you this story in Fourth Year?_

_I added that part to illustrate the idea for you all better, Potter._

_And watch who you call Evans, boy. We're all Evanses in this house._

_Sorry, sir._

_As I was saying…_

With the McKinnon name decreasing in value and repute with each generation, it would become increasingly difficult for a McKinnon to wed a Pure-blood of higher pedigree, only worsening their dilemma. So it was that Marlene and her parents found themselves to be the last living McKinnons with pure blood. Unfortunately, this raised a new issue. The horde of generational wealth that every Pure-blood family amassed over the centuries, or in some cases, millenia, was usually stored in a family vault, deep under the ground, in the criss-crossing tunnels that made up Gringotts bank.

However, in the case of the McKinnons, everything that was not currently sitting in their large, mostly empty house, was lying in the vaults of a variety of other Pure-blood families as part of a deal. This deal was made by Marlene's great-grandfather, Ophiuchi McKinnon. Realizing the direction the McKinnon name was going in, he contacted various Pure-blood families before more damage could be done, offering them each large portions of the McKinnon inheritance should they agree for some specific descendants along the line to be wed. In this fashion, Marlene's father was married to her mother, as was her father's father before him.

So Marlene had been engaged before she'd even been born.

As she was the last in the line of McKinnons, when she would be wed, the McKinnon name would, once and for all, be cleansed from the breaths of Pure-blood conversation. But its legacy would live on in her descendants. Their surnames, it was decided, would be Ärger.

_Marlene __Ärger, eh? Hmm. That has absolutely no ring to it._

_That's what we told her. But she didn't care._

When Marlene had first met William Ärger, she'd been instantly enamored. They were thirteen, and both quite nervous to meet each other. Marlene had blushed, and he had stammered. They went out, without supervision from their parents, to a Quidditch match. Tornados playing the Kestrels. Alone together, the ice broke quickly, and they had some fun. He was nice, and funny. His smile always reached his eyes.

"Call me Will," he told her once they reached the stadium.

"Okay," she said, smiling shyly. The smell of hot food wafted through the air, and her stomach grumbled. She colored quickly.

"Are you hungry?"

"No!"

"We can share something if you want. There's a-"

_Alright, we get the picture. He's nice, and they hit it off. _

_Yes, but there are a couple of really cute moments-_

_Evans, we don't care about the cute moments._

_For once, I agree with the boy, Lily. What happened next?_

_Urgh. Fine._

But as time progressed, Marlene's view of the whole thing started to grow negative. Lily and Alice's insistence that she deserved to find someone herself, without her family's dumb rules, probably didn't help matters.

"You guys are right," Marlene said heatedly, pacing about their dormitory midway through Fifth Year. "Who are they to make that sort of choice for me? Will's nice, but why can't I have the freedom to marry whomever I please?"

The girls had chorused their agreement.

Her relationship with Will stayed pleasant. Each time they met, they talked amiably, and she made no mention of her misgivings. But it was clear to the girls that Marlene was no longer taking any pleasure in meeting him each time, perhaps as it was a constant reminder that her future wasn't her own. Not really.

And recent events certainly didn't help matters.

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"The fact that her and Black were so close did worry me a little," Lily admitted. "The possibility that maybe there was something going on, I mean. But until New Year's, I had never actually believed that it would happen."

James smirked at her. "I told you. I told you there was something going on that night, didn't I?"

She rolled her eyes, smiling a little. "Yes, Potter. You told me."

Mr Evans looked between the two with a small frown. "What does Marlene look like again? I can't seem to remember."

"You've seen Marlene, Dad. She's come over a few times."

"Do you have a picture or something? Just to refresh my memory?"

Lily grimaced and nodded. "I suppose." She stood, and walked from the sitting room. "I'll be right back."

The moment her red hair whipped out of sight, Mr Evans rounded on James. "What are your intentions with my daughter?"

"What?"

"We're being completely serious now, Potter. I see how you look at her. How she looks at you. What are your intentions?"

"I-" James swallowed. "I intend to date her, sir. I like her a lot, and if she likes me then I'm going to ask her out and date her."

"Even if I don't give you my blessing?"

James gave a dry smile. "With all due respect, if Lily wants to do something, there isn't a damn thing _anyone_ can do to stop her."

Mr Evans raised an eyebrow, and then chuckled. "You know her too well."

"Yeah."

The man looked at his wife, who hadn't spoken in all this and was regarding her husband with an amusedly resigned expression. "He got me," said Mr Evans. "He got me with that line. Damn it." He turned back to James, looking pained. "You had better treat her right, boy."

"I will."

"Because if you do anything to make her unhappy, I will-"

"It doesn't matter what you want to do, because Lily will have long since killed me herself," said James before he could stop himself.

Mrs Evans snorted. Mr Evans stared at him for a moment before speaking. "You're cheeky, aren't you?"

"That's what they tell me."

A sigh. "I like you. Damn it, James, as much as I wish I didn't, I do. I like you_._"

"Is now a bad time?" asked Lily, standing and watching them from the room's entrance, eyebrow raised, a moving photo of Marlene in hand. "Because I can come back later."

James laughed and got to his feet. "Please, don't leave on my account. I'd best be off anyway, I had only come here for a brief chat."

"You sure? Mum, do you want to tell Potter how much you like him, too?"

"Oh, James knows," said Mrs Evans, smiling good-naturedly at James. "I tell him every time I see him."

"You've seen him twice."

"And so I've told him two times."

"I told him two times in one sentence," bragged Mr Evans from the couch. "Big deal."

Lily shook her head once more at her parents and led James to the door. "Sure you can't stay?"

"Yeah," he said. "I've got to take care of some stuff at home, seeing as Mum and Dad are over at the Prewetts' for tea and Sirius has conveniently vanished."

"How responsible of you," said Mrs Evans, following them to the door. "Lily, I hope you demonstrate this responsibility when _you _have to look after the house while your father and I are on holiday."

"Yes, Mum," Lily droned.

"Where are you going?" asked James.

"On a cruise," called Mr Evans from the sitting room. "A wine cruise for our wedding anniversary!"

"He got tired of me telling him that we never do anything for our anniversary," said Mrs Evans. "So he just went out and bought tickets without telling me, and now I have to go."

"I bet you're really excited, Mum," smirked Lily. "Don't lie."

"Maybe," said Mrs Evans with a small smile. "But it means that we'll miss you when you're on Easter break, because your father _can't plan properly_."

"Love you too, honey," Mr Evans called.

"Dear, get off that couch. You have some dishes to do, remember?"

As Lily's parents argued, she turned to James and grinned. "See you at school then, Potter."

He nodded and returned her grin. "See you at school, Evans."

They both leaned in, and her parents stopped talking suddenly, and Lily veered to the side, kissing James on the cheek.

He looked amused, and winked at her. Then, without another word, he stepped outside. The door closed behind him.

"You know, Lily, you two have some palpable chemistry."

"Dad," said Lily, her eyes closed, "please just go wash the dishes."

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Taureau Barkley moved through the Ministry, a ghost among all the people with their fancily embroidered robes. He followed a rather fat man with a top hat, then broke off and darted into an empty elevator before the doors could close. He got off on the next floor and flitted between pillars and walls.

Because of one Caradoc Dearborn, his description had been circulating recently. Taureau had to be careful. Gone were the exquisite suits and aviator sunglasses, to be replaced by loose, drab, and intentionally forgettable black robes. At least for today, at any rate.

This wasn't the first way in which Dearborn had inconvenienced him. For days and days, Taureau had been plagued by one specific memory from the battle of Síla. Of a man with a blurry face defeating him in single combat. It wasn't until after New Year's Eve, when Taureau had found Morgan Bulstrode in Portugal, attempting to strike a deal with a man in disguise alongside two school kids, that it had struck him. That man, on both occasions, was Caradoc Dearborn.

Taureau reached the Auror Department, slipped past the receptionist before she could even look up.

His knowledge of Dearborn consisted of a few things. The first was that Dearborn was an Auror. That much was common knowledge, as he'd had some acclaimed success over the last few years. The second was that Dearborn was a Death Eater. Taureau had marched on Síla alongside him, and that had been his last memory of the man until recently.

The third thing was the Dearborn was actually working against the Death Eaters. For whatever reason, he had attacked Taureau back in Síla, and had been in the process of taking down Bulstrode on New Year's.

Taureau didn't really care if Dearborn betrayed the Death Eaters. Taureau wasn't a Death Eater himself. His services had simply been hired, and he always followed orders.

Today, Taureau wasn't at the Ministry on anyone's orders. Today was personal.

He could have told his employer that Dearborn was a double-agent, of course. That would have been the simplest thing. But that would also mean that the matter would be taken out of Taureau's hands. No, Taureau wanted to do this himself.

He walked past the office of Emmett Fawley, not stopping to check in like he was used to doing whenever he came here. Instead, Taureau walked deeper, reached the perfect spot.

Bartemius Crouch, an official from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, was talking to another hard-faced man not far away. There was Jedidiah Hobbart, from the Wizengamot, frowning down at some papers. A Junior Minister of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, Cornelius Fudge, walked in, too. Taureau smiled. This reception couldn't have been better if he'd planned for it.

Dearborn would run, frantically and desperately, as he was hunted. Only then would Taureau end him.

He placed a thin vial on the ground. Inside was an opaque thread, silvery white - his memory of Dearborn marching with the Death Eaters, a particularly incriminating moment as the auror gave a sinister smile, lifted his wand, and put the taunting mask over his face. Altered, of course. Dearborn hadn't actually offered that sinister smile, but Taureau reckoned it really added to the effect.

He twirled his wand in the air, and slipped away. He sped stealthily back through the Department, hearing gasps and loud voices behind him as people started to notice his handiwork.

Taureau smiled to himself once more, his day's work done, content to simply watch and lie in wait until the perfect moment presented itself.

He left the Auror Department, all those officials and ministers pointing at the air in his wake, at the large, silvery letters floating around at eye level.

_CARADOC DEARBORN IS A DEATH EATER_

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Alice shut the oven with her hip, and carried the steaming tray to the table.

"Muffins," Frank said happily, reaching for one.

Alice took her oven mitts off and slapped his hand with them. "Not yet. They need to cool."

Looking her straight in the eyes, Frank grabbed his wand and flicked it. The muffins stopped steaming. Alice prodded one gently, and it was just the right kind of warm.

"Well, alright," she said grudgingly. "Go on, then."

Grinning, Frank grabbed a cupcake and bit into it. "Oh, Merlin," he said, closing his eyes. "I'm so glad my girlfriend can cook."

"How long are you going to keep doing that?" she asked, amused.

"Doing what?"

"Calling me your girlfriend at every opportunity. When my parents answered the door this morning, I heard you say, '_I'm here to visit Alice, my girlfriend.' _Don't get me wrong, I think it's very sweet. But also funny."

"Well, you see, Alice, my girlfriend-" she snorted, "-the very thought that you are my girlfriend now, after all this time, is still so thrilling, so mind-boggling, so _invigorating_, that I can't help but mention it wherever possible, just to hear it out loud. Hearing it is enough to make my heart race, and I think it always will be."

Alice surveyed him with a raised brow. "You're so cheesy," she said, putting the mitts back on and grabbing the tray again. "You were never like this when we were just friends."

"It's much too late to look back now, Alice, my girlfriend. It's a new day! The world will never be the same!"

"Mhm." She started carrying the tray from the room. "I'm going to offer some of these to the old ones. You better quit this talk when I get back, or I might throw up in your mouth."

He sobered. "Duly noted."

Alice stepped out onto the front porch, where four adults sat around a wooden table, having their tea. "Muffins are ready."

"Oh, how lovely," said Mrs Potter, lighting up. "Thank you, Alice."

"It smells terrific," said Mr Prewett, taking a whiff of them.

Alice put the tray on the table, and Mrs Prewett delicately picked one up and took a bite, then made a satisfied noise. "Oh, Alice, you've done a wonderful job."

Alice smiled. "Thanks."

Mr Potter nudged his wife. "How come our boys never cook for us?"

Mrs Potter sighed. "We didn't raise them well enough, I expect."

"Well that's hardly fair," he complained. "We've only had Sirius for a year."

"I'll have a word with his parents then, shall I?" she said. "Right after I beat them senseless, see how they like being on the receiving end of things."

"Euphemia," he said quietly, "that's a brilliant idea."

"We're not actually going to do it."

"What? Why not?"

"What kind of example would that set for the boys?"

"A very good one, I expect. An example of efficiency and strength."

Mr Prewett sighed exasperatedly. "Fleamont, take a muffin already. Alice is waiting for you."

Alice smiled awkwardly.

"Ah, that's right!" Mr Potter took a muffin, and bit into it.

Not for the first time, it struck Alice just how similar the man looked to his son. She wondered if James had told his parents that they had dated, if briefly. Probably not.

"Oh, Merlin, my son's an idiot for breaking up with you," said Mr Potter through a mouthful of food. "That's really good."

Alice colored.

"What he means is that we're both very happy for you and Frank," Mrs Potter said, smiling at her warmly.

"Thank you."

"Though I'd much rather you date our son again."

"Right."

"He's not that bad, really. Once you get over the knobbly knees, there's so much to appreciate. What do you think?"

Alice stared at the two, while her own parents watched her pityingly. She opened her mouth, not knowing what to say, and was saved from having to attempt a response when a brown tawny owl, one of the school ones, came swooping down suddenly, landing on the table with a prim flutter of its wings. It stuck its leg out to Mr and Mrs Potter, bequeathing them the piece of parchment attached.

Mrs Potter took the parchment and the couple leaned in, scanning it quickly. "Oh," she said. "Is it that time already?"

"It seems we must be off," said Mr Potter, getting to his feet and finishing off his muffin. He offered his hand to his wife and she allowed herself to be pulled up.

"Lovely seeing you all, as always," she said, smiling at the Prewetts. "You must come round to ours one of these days, we've completely redone the garden."

With their hands clasped, they looked ready to apparate. Mr Potter glanced at Alice one last time. "I hope you change your mind, Alice. We're much richer than the Longbottoms, you know."

"Once again," said Mrs Potter loudly, "I apologize for my husband."

With a _crack_, they turned on the spot and vanished.

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In a town not far from Hogsmeade village, the man sat on a bench, alone in the afternoon sun. In front of him, the lake glimmered, shiny and still, looking like an unthinkably large and precious gem.

Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange approached from behind, wands drawn.

"Do you know who I am?" the man asked, turning his dark haired head and fixing them with an expressionless gaze. The two stopped where they were.

"Harold Minchum," said Rabastan. "An Auror."

"You've led us on a merry chase all day," Rodolphus told him. "I'm curious, did you know we were following you?"

Minchum's expression didn't shift. "One does not last long in my line of work if they cannot detect two bumbling fools running along behind."

Rabaston growled and raised his wand, but Rodolphus stayed his hand.

"I see. As expected of the second-in-command to _Sawyer Hughes_."

Rabastan sniggered.

"Is that what this is about, then? Because I am number two to the man who will most likely be our next Minister of Magic, you've taken it upon yourselves to bump me off?"

Rodolphus smiled, the sort of smile that said he knew something the other man didn't. "Simply following orders, I'm afraid. Great plans are in motion, and a _certain someone_ has decided that we cannot have you getting in the way of things you have no business meddling with. Your time is up."

Minchum stood, so slowly that it had to be on purpose, as though he were testing them. "I have files of the two of you sitting on my desk, you know."

"We're flattered," said Rabastan. "But that won't do you a lot of good."

"You've cast an anti-apparition jinx on this place, haven't you?"

The brothers grinned.

"Goodness, that really is your favorite move, then."

"We've gotten some good results from it over the years, yes."

Minchum nodded. "An impressive kill-count."

"Oh, yes," said Rodolphus, smiling. "And it's about to-"

Rodolphus was blasted off his feet before he could finish, and he hit the ground hard. Breathless, he rolled over and got up, cursed as he watched his brother trade spells with the Auror.

"Avada Ked-" he quickly cut himself off and dodged to the side as a jet of red light streaked towards him. Minchum dueled Rabastan with a look of intense concentration on his face, and spared another glance at Rodolphus, fired another jet of light at him. Rodolphus dodged again, and ran forwards. "Avada Kedavra!"

Minchum dodged the green light, fired a spell that flew within an inch of Rabastan's head. Rodolphus joined his brother, snarling as he fired another killing curse at their opponent. The brothers got into a rhythm, and Minchum took a step back. The man's dark eyes were blank even as he was pushed back, and he looked almost bored. He reached the lake's edge, his boots a hair's breadth from the water's glittering surface, and held his ground. The brothers continued to advance, their wandwork quick. They were too good for him.

But Minchum hadn't gained his reputation without warrant. With a flick of his wand, a bright light flashed, and Rodolphus and Rabastan were pushed back a few steps. There was a splash, and when the light cleared there were ripples on the lake's surface. Running forwards, Rodolphus looked into the water and saw Minchum, not far under. Rabastan shot a killing curse at the figure, but the jet of light slowed once it passed through the water's sheen and quickly petered out. Rodolphus thought he could see Minchum wave his wand under the surface. Then the water swirled and churned and raged, like a whirlpool had come into being, and from the middle of the torrent shot up a blue beast, up into the air, a beast of frothing water and furious current. It resembled a sea serpent, with skin of flowing spray and eyes of foamy pools. It opened its mouth and roared, the roar of the ocean.

"Finite Incantatem," yelled Rodolphus.

The beast turned its head to him, opened its mouth wider still, and dove at him, down and down and down came those jaws, and Rodolphus closed his eyes, bracing himself for the-

Splash, like many buckets of water being thrown over his head at once. He was instantly soaked to the bone. He opened his eyes. Beside him, Rabastan had caught much of the beast's spray too, looking just as soaked. They both turned back to the water's surface.

Minchum had disappeared.

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Caradoc Dearborn walked into Dumbledore's office, nodded to those already gathered.

"Alright, Professor. I took the day off work for this, so I hope it's important." He took a look at Harold Minchum and frowned. The man's hair was frizzy, as though wettened and then hastily dried. His clothes smelled. "Have you been swimming, Harold?"

"I was attacked," said Harold. "By the Lestrange brothers."

Caradoc frowned. "Do you know why?"

"It seems to me that they were simply seeking to get rid of their obstacles. With Sawyer and myself out of the way, Fawley and Bulstrode will have a clear path to power."

"Do we know if Sawyer is safe?" asked Fleamont Potter, standing with his wife by Dumbledore's desk.

"He is," said Alastor Moody. "I checked in with him before I came here."

"He will need constant protection," said Dedalus Diggle, a usually excitable man who now had steel in his eyes. "As will you, Harold."

Harold nodded. "If we can spare the manpower, then it couldn't hurt. But this raises a new concern. What if both Sawyer and I are killed? We cannot let Bulstrode and Fawley seize power."

"I agree," said Dumbledore. "So should the worst case scenario come into being, who should we back for the job of Minister, after Sawyer and yourself?"

Anton Windstrum spoke up, standing beside Professor McGonagall. "I think it's obvious, Headmaster. It has to be you."

Dumbledore shook his head firmly. "I have made it abundantly clear many times, I shall not be the Minister of Magic."

"Come now, Albus," said Euphemia Potter. "We all know your stance on the matter, but when duty calls-"

"My duty is to this school, Euphemia."

"Albus," said McGonagall, "if not you, then… who?"

"I know who," said Caradoc.

All faces turned to look at him. One face in particular paled, and Caradoc grinned.

"And I think Dumbledore is in agreement with me."

Dumbledore inclined his head. "It makes the most sense."

The two turned to look at the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

"Absolutely not," said Anton, shaking his head. "I refuse. There, it's over. Dumbledore refused, now I refuse. Who's next? Dedalus? Will you give it a go?"

Caradoc looked at his best friend with amusement. "Anton, you know you're the obvious choice. You almost entered politics yourself when we left school."

"Almost," said Anton loudly. "I wanted to be the Minister of Magic as a teenager, yes. I prepared myself for it, was groomed for it. But I got tangled up with Morgan Bulstrode and his lot, and I've wanted nothing to do with politics ever since. I travelled the world for _five years_, for heaven's sake! Have you all forgotten that? Just to get away from that scene, I took a five year break from the country!"

"But now you're back," said Dumbledore quietly.

"I'm back because you offered me this job. That's it."

"Yet you are here, in this room, Anton. What we are doing is not a job, not something we want to do. It is something we have to do. I think you've realized this."

"Find someone else."

"You _are_ someone else, Anton," said Caradoc. Anton looked at him, frustration clear on his face. "You know that it has to be you."

They stared each other down for a few seconds. Caradoc saw the decision being made in his friend's eyes, on his face. Anton closed his eyes, took a breath. Then he opened them. "Alright. I'll do it."

Everyone in the room heaved a sigh of relief.

"It's only in the worst case, anyway," said Caradoc supportively. "Sawyer and Harold aren't dropping dead any time soon. Just look at Harold. Look how handsome he is!"

Harold didn't even twitch, his face as expressionless as ever.

"Yeah, yeah," Anton said, running a hand through his hair and sounding tired.

"With that matter resolved," said Dumbledore, "it is time to address why I have summoned you all here today." They all straightened and turned to look at him. "This war is unrelenting, and only growing more and more fast paced. Our enemies have dark things stirring on the horizon, and we are struggling to keep up as it is."

He stood from his desk, tall and proud. A warrior.

"Voldemort has his army," he said. "It's well past time we assembled our own."


	21. Fear to Love

James eyed Sirius as they pushed their trollies through King's Cross Station, their Christmas break having finally come to an end. His friend did not look happy.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not particularly."

Even without their large trunks and caged owls, the two boys would have drawn plenty of prolonged stares. Eyes lingered and eyebrows quirked wherever they would go. There was a magnetism to the way they walked, a flair in their steps, and an unmistakable, irreplaceable importance in their eyes. Or at least a healthy sense of self-importance.

"Well, I'm going to talk about it, so you can feel free to just listen."

"I'd really rather you didn't."

"Marlene is engaged."

Sirius sighed and looked up at the high ceiling, as though searching for a reprieve from the messy haired boy.

"And she's engaged to a bloke called William." James looked closer at him. "_William_, Padfoot."

"I am aware of his name."

"William Ärger… that has to hurt."

Sirius grunted.

"I hadn't even heard of a Pureblood name like Ärger before. There must be a few Muggles in there somewhere. Good for them."

Sirius said nothing.

"But you're a _Black_," James added, looking thoughtful. "It doesn't get much purer than that."

Clenched jaw.

"And you lost to an _Ärger_."

Sirius whirled on him. "Prongs, are you trying to make me hex you right now? What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to make you talk about it," James said, crossing his arms. "I know how you get when you stew on things."

"Yeah? How do I get?"

"Dumb."

"That right?"

"Last time you were like this, Padfoot, you told Snape how to get into the Whomping Willow." Sirius closed his mouth. "Almost killed him, potentially getting Moony locked up."

Sirius' face had colored a little. "I may get a little dumb, I suppose."

"Marlene is engaged, Sirius. And you like her, don't you?"

Sirius nodded with a jerk of his head.

"Then what are you going to do about it?"

The grey eyed boy held his gaze for a few seconds, then looked away to the barrier between Platforms Nine and Ten. "I'll just have to move on, won't I?"

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"Mr Dearborn," said Propositus Crinkle, a thin man with a bow tie and a polite smile, "you have an urgent meeting to attend. If you would please follow me."

Caradoc's brow furrowed. Propositus Crinkle was an administrator of some sort. He was mainly seen doing jobs befitting an assistant for various ministers around the place, and Caradoc had had little to do with him in the past. Now, having the man greet Caradoc first thing in the morning, the moment he stepped into the Auror Department for work, was at least a little surprising.

"What kind of urgent meeting?" Caradoc asked, matching Crinkle's brisk pace as they marched into a thin corridor adjoining the entrance to the Auror Department. "Do you know?"

The same polite smile. "I do not."

Caradoc frowned. "Okay."

Two men were ahead of them, standing still and expressionless. As Caradoc and Crinkle approached, the two turned and smiled brightly.

"Caradoc, Propositus, fancy seeing you here," greeted the first man, brown haired and blue eyed.

"Hello, John," said Crinkle. He nodded to the other man, with gleaming white teeth and waxy blonde hair. "How are you, Jack?"

"I am well," said Jack, flashing his bright teeth with a smile. "John, are you well?"

"I am well," said John.

"We are well, Propositus. Say, what brings you here?"

Crinkle inclined his head towards Caradoc. "Escorting Mr Dearborn to a meeting."

"Is it an urgent one?" asked John.

"It is."

"Then we'll come with you."

Crinkle nodded his head, showcasing his polite smile once again. Caradoc eyed the two as they matched his and Crinkle's pace down the corridor, but he said nothing.

"So, how are you, Caradoc?" asked Jack, after a few seconds of silence but for the sound of their footsteps.

"I don't recall ever meeting you before," said Caradoc, ignoring the question. "Either of you. How do you know my name?"

"Everyone knows your name," said John cheerily, putting a hand on Caradoc's shoulder. Caradoc shrugged it off, and John withdrew his hand so easily he might never have extended it in the first place. "You're _Caradoc Dearborn_. Joined the Auror Department five years ago, at the age of seventeen. Made quite a name for yourself very quickly, put away a lot of dangerous people. Then of course, as if your reputation could get any more awesome, you teamed up with Ferox Goodman, and the two of you were an instant force to be reckoned with. The pride of the Auror Department, some say."

"Indeed they were," said Jack. "But then Goodman up and disappeared a few months ago, without a trace. Quite mysterious. I don't suppose you know what happened to him, do you, Caradoc?"

_"Stay down, Ferox," Caradoc called desperately._

_Blood gushed. Bone protuded._

_A whispering, wheezing breath._

_With a flash of green light, the noise stopped._

"No," said Caradoc, his face impassive. "I haven't a clue."

All three men were looking at Caradoc. Their eyes were alert. Caradoc stared back, and a corner approached, and when they took it the three men looked away finally. They each gave easy smiles, and it was like they had left all the tension behind them.

"I hadn't thought so," said Jack lightly. "No one seems to know."

"Maybe he went on holiday," Caradoc offered.

Jack's smile became tight. "Maybe."

"We're here," said Crinkle.

Ahead of them was a metal door. Two Aurors stood guard in front of it, Acustus Proudfoot and Hestia Jones. The two had only joined the department recently, and Caradoc had spent two days showing them the ropes a few weeks back. They stood stiff, their backs straight - either a great work ethic, or the tell-tale signs of nervousness.

Caradoc nodded to them. "Alright?"

Hestia's eyes flickered to him, to Crinkle, and then back to staring resolutely at the wall in front of her. There was a bead of sweat on her forehead.

Neither of the young Aurors responded to him.

"They have strict instructions not to engage," explained Crinkle, waving a hand. The two moved out of the way, and Crinkle beckoned Caradoc towards the door.

"Engage," Caradoc repeated slowly, not moving.

"Talk to you," said Crinkle. "To anyone, I mean. Strict orders."

Jack had taken a few extra steps. John stood in the direction they had just come, his shoulders wide, his gaze wandering around the corridor innocuously, and Jack mirrored his stance on Caradoc's other side. In front of Caradoc stood the two young Aurors, on either side of the door. Beside him was Crinkle, who beckoned once more towards the door. "Your urgent meeting awaits, Mr Dearborn."

Caradoc nodded. "Thank you."

Around him, each of the figures' hands drifted that little bit closer towards their wands. Caradoc eyed them all, stone-faced. He had always found the calm before the storm to be-

"Caradoc Dearborn!"

A figure approached. All heads turned, watched a small man, red in the face, sprint towards them looking harried.

"Who are you?" snapped Crinkle. "What are you doing here? The entrance is supposed to be sealed! Leave at once."

Caradoc frowned. The entrance was sealed?

"I have an urgent message," huffed the small man, bending over and sucking in deep lungfuls of air, "for Caradoc Dearborn." He held out a torn piece of parchment. "From Alastor Moody."

With a raised brow, Caradoc took the parchment. Read it.

_WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR, BOY? GET THE HELL OUT OF THERE_

Caradoc looked up from the parchment. All faces stared at him. The small man was still panting. The others seemed alert, their eyes probing Caradoc for any signs of imminent movement. Crinkle's smile had run dry of politeness and now looked incredibly forced.

Crinkle opened his mouth-

"Stupefy," Caradoc yelled, and Crinkle flew into the wall. As his head smacked against the plaster, wands were raised in a split-second all around Caradoc, and lights and yells filled the air.

Stunning spell missed, binding spell dodged. All he could see were flashing lights and weaving bodies, and a stinging hex hit him on the forearm. Caradoc almost dropped his wand before deflecting a body-bind curse and he shot three jinxes back, which were promptly dodged. Blue light and white light and Caradoc blocked and whirled.

A purple light and a yellow light and Caradoc flicked his wand, and the walls ruptured and plaster rained upon them all and, as one, after a brief lull as the figures scattered, their wands all raised again. Smiling, Caradoc timed it perfectly.

"Protego!"

The spells of all his surrounding opponents bounced back at them, and they were hit by their own jets of light. They all dropped to the floor. There was suddenly quiet.

"Oldest trick in the book," said Caradoc with a smirk, pocketing his wand.

The small man was on the floor too, having long since been taken out of the fight that he hadn't even seemed to know was coming. Dust settled.

Caradoc leaned down, picked up the limp form of Acustus Proudfoot by the collar. "Enervate."

Proudfoot jerked awake, focused his gaze on Caradoc, and immediately started thrashing around, trying to break free.

"Stop struggling."

"Get off me, Death Eater!"

Caradoc frowned. "Death Eater?"

"We all know what you are," spat Proudfoot. "Evil scum."

"Mate, I don't know what you're on about. I'm no Death Eater."

Proudfoot laughed. "You're lying. I saw the evidence with my own eyes in a pensieve. Someone's memory of you, at the battle of Síla. You were wearing your fancy Death Eater robes."

Caradoc stared at him. "Oh."

"Yeah," sneered Proudfoot. "_Oh._"

"Oh, no," said Caradoc quietly.

"Yeah," said Proudfoot, less enthusiastically. "_Oh, no._"

"Look, mate. I'm on your side. I can't explain why-"

"Of course you can't."

"-but I'm not your enemy. And I don't want to hurt any of you."

Proudfoot looked around. "Well, you've done a great job so far."

"Look," said Caradoc through gritted teeth, "I don't- Oh, why am I bothering?"

He stunned Proudfoot again, and dropped him to the floor. He could hear footsteps from down the corridor. With a long, pained sigh, Caradoc pocketed his wand and set off down the corridor at a jog.

"If this is what I get for being on the good side," he muttered, "I almost wish I _was_ a real Death Eater."

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There was an awkward air about the compartment, and James reckoned they could all feel it. Frank and Alice were cuddled together in a corner. She was somewhat on the Head Boy's lap. Peter sat between Marlene and Sirius, blissfully unaware of recent developments. James and Lily sat beside each other. Their shoulders touched. Remus sat closest to the door, looking decidedly uncomfortable.

"So, the break was fun," James tried loudly.

Mumbled responses.

"Yeah," said Lily, matching his tone. "Heaps of fun."

Alice and Frank weren't paying attention. Marlene and Sirius were looking anywhere but at each other.

"It was alright," said Peter reasonably. "It's not like anything significant happened."

The rest of them stared at the ground.

"Remus," said Lily with a smile that was too bright, "how was your break?"

"Good," the boy said, eyeing the rest of the group with suspicion. "After midnight at the New Year's party, I couldn't find any of you." They all looked at the ground with renewed interest. "Eventually I just went home."

"I had stuff to do," James mumbled. "Chores and stuff."

"Me too," chimed in Lily.

"I was wasting my time," said Sirius matter-of-factly.

Marlene looked at him with a dropped jaw.

"Merlin," James said under his breath.

"Is that right, Black? Wasting your time?"

"Yes."

"Doing _what_, exactly?"

"You don't have to tell us," said Lily hurriedly.

"No," said Marlene. "I want to hear it."

"I don't think he should tell us," said James.

"Shut it, both of you. Tell us, Black."

"Why do you want to know so badly?" asked Peter, frowning.

"I'm interested in how he wastes his time," said Marlene with a clearly false smile.

"Everyone does it differently, right?" said Alice, joining the conversation. "I like to read a book."

"I play Quidditch," said Frank.

"Quidditch is never a waste of time," James snapped.

Sirius nodded. "I can confirm that I was _not_ playing Quidditch."

"Great," said Marlene, glaring daggers at Sirius. "At least you know _something_."

"I regret speaking at all now," said Remus.

The door slid open.

"Anything from the trolley, dears?"

The teens all looked at the trolley lady, her ever-present, kindly smile on her lined face.

"I'll take a Chocolate Frog, thanks," said Remus quietly, passing her some Sickles.

"Anything else?"

"A Pumpkin Pasty for me, thanks," Lily mumbled.

"Of course, dear."

The rest of the train ride passed only with short, stunted passes at conversation.

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"I guess this was bound to happen," said Lily. She turned back to look at James, who walked a few paces behind her down the corridor.

"It was inevitable, looking back," James agreed.

"Do you think Black will try to win Marlene over?"

He shrugged. "Who knows?"

"It's not like he'll be able to, either way. Do you reckon he'll try anything dumb?"

James shrugged again. "Who knows?"

"Clearly not you," she chided. She turned back around to face forward. "What a mess. An inevitable mess. This is what happens when a group of friends starts becoming romantically involved with one another. Complete chaos."

He caught up with her and flashed her a smirk. "Are we _romantically involved_, Evans?"

She hid her smile well, and quickened her pace. "Who knows?"

He laughed from behind her. "And so the chase continues."

"And so it does. Now, how far are these kitchens? You better not have been lying when you said you know where they are, Potter."

"Evans, would I ever lie just to spend time with you?"

"Indubitably."

"Indubitably indeed. I'd do just about anything to spend time with you."

She bit her lip and quickened her pace further. She would not let him see her blush.

"But I really do know where the kitchens are. We're just going the wrong way, that's all."

"What?"

She turned around, just in time to see him disappear down an adjoining corridor.

"I did say I'd do anything to spend time with you, didn't I?" came his teasing voice from down the corridor. "Come along now, Evans. I'd hate for you to get lost."

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Sirius tapped the map as James closed the dormitory door behind him. "How's Evans?"

"Same as always. Red haired. Rabid. You know."

Sirius smiled as James sat on his bed and kicked off his shoes. "I bet. Your dots on the map got rather close throughout the night."

"That's… unsettling. Oi, Moony!"

"Yeah?" called Remus from the bathroom.

"Why didn't you ever raise the issue of privacy when we were making the map?"

"I did. I believe your response at the time was, _Oh, shut it, Moony_."

Sirius sniggered.

"Well," said James, "I think we should take another look at the matter."

"Overruled," said Sirius immediately.

"Overruled," came Remus' voice. "You need to deal with the consequences of your actions."

James looked at Peter, who was getting into his pyjamas.

"Sorry, James," said Peter. "It's already two to one."

"You can make it two to two!"

Peter smiled apologetically. "Sorry, James."

James threw his head back. "You always side with the majority when we take a vote, Wormtail."

"It's the smart thing to do," Peter reasoned.

"Well, not for me. I love uphill battles," said James. "Makes things fun."

"That explains why you're still stuck on Evans," Sirius chuckled. "It's an uphill battle for you that will never end."

James smiled widely. "Is that right?"

"Well, yeah. I reckon so."

"Because," James continued, "you've just reminded me that there are a few things I need to catch you boys up on…"

They all settled into their beds as James brought them up to speed on the events of the last few days.

"You and Evans kissed?" Sirius exclaimed. "You kissed and you didn't tell me?"

"When should I have told you? When you'd just learned Marlene is engaged, and looked ready to punch someone? Or when you were moping about it yesterday? Or when you were moping about it this morning?"

James couldn't see Sirius from his bed and in the dark, but he knew he'd be glaring.

"I was not moping."

"More importantly," said Remus from his bed, "you kissed Lily, James?"

"What was Sirius moping about?" Peter whispered.

"Yeah," said James.

"I was not moping."

"We kissed. Then we went back to the party with Caradoc, and Lily left shortly after. I stopped by her place the other day for a chat, actually."

"Did you kiss again?"

"No. But things were good. We raided the kitchens just now and had another chat. Things are _really_ good."

The boys were quiet for a few moments.

"Can you believe the position you're in right now?" Remus asked.

"No," said James immediately. "When she left the party, I ran to the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror for ten minutes. I didn't think it was real life."

Remus laughed.

"Do you reckon she likes you?" asked Peter.

James wrinkled his nose. "All evidence points that way."

"As far as ways to show someone that you like them go," said Sirius, "kissing them is probably near the top of the list."

James nodded, as if the rest of them could see him. "That's what I reckon, too."

They were quiet for another few moments.

"So," said Peter eventually, "what next?"

"What next?" James repeated. "Mate… I have no bloody clue."

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Breakfast was less awkward. Perhaps, thought Lily, all the group needed was time to acclimatize to the fact that almost all of them were seeing one another in some shape or form.

Was _she_ seeing James in some shape or form?

"I suppose," Lily said.

"You suppose what?" asked Marlene. "Pass me the butter, will you?"

"Just talking to myself," said Lily, handing her the butter dish. "So, you talked to Black yet?"

Marlene raised an eyebrow. "In the twelve hours since we got off the train? No."

"Will you?"

"In the one and a half years that we have left at Hogwarts?" she asked. "No."

"Come on," said Lily. She glanced two seats down, past Frank and Remus, to where Sirius was sat, deep in conversation with James. "He looks to be in a better mood."

"He's frowning."

"Which is already an improvement on yesterday."

"Lily."

"Baby steps, Mar. Come on."

"You're talking as though I _want_ him to be in a better mood. I don't care, honestly."

"I don't believe that."

"That's nice."

"I think you like him."

Marlene looked at her sharply. "So what if I do? What do you want me to do, really? I'm _engaged_, Lily." She looked back down at her plate and stabbed a kipper with deadly force.

Lily looked at her friend sympathetically.

"Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Sympathetically."

"I'm not."

Marlene gave an aggravated sigh.

"You like him," Lily said again after a few more seconds. "Don't you?"

"Lily, if you don't stop talking, I'm going to stab you with my fork."

Lily pressed her lips together tight.

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With a furtive glance cast behind him every few steps, Caradoc tread slowly down the narrow Irish street. Each footfall landed him several inches deep in snow. In the mere minutes since he'd been in the neighbourhood, the snow had already covered him from head to toe. He was soaked.

That was to make no mention of his injuries. A gash on his bicep, some cuts to his face, what felt like a dislocated knee, and some bruised ribs had been Caradoc's only companions over the night, and though he wasn't one to complain when he felt under the weather, he certainly had to admit that he had seen better days.

Another furtive glance behind him. Still no one. But they would come. He had learned these past twenty-four hours that they always came. It frustrated Caradoc to no end that the Auror Department only seemed to function competently when _he_ was the one they were chasing. It was so typical.

He walked up a floral pathway to the first house on the street, and knocked on the door. When it opened, an elderly lady with glasses that magnified her eyes to the size of tennis balls poked her head out. "Yes? Can I help you?" Her accent was Irish and friendly.

Caradoc managed a smile. "Hello. I'm a weary traveller-"

She took in his appearance and her eyes widened even further. "Weary indeed! Look at you!"

He grimaced. "Yeah."

"Come in, dear, come in. Let's get you some biscuits, how about that?"

"That's very kind of you," he said, stepping inside with relief. "But I only wish to use your fireplace. I can't stay for long."

"Are you sure? I don't mind at all. Ever since my youngest got married it's been awfully quiet around here. I'd love the company!" She closed the door and led the way to her sitting room. The fireplace was already roaring, and Caradoc gradually felt warmth return to the tips of his fingers.

He rubbed his cheeks, getting the feeling back into them. "No, really, I'll have to be going soon. I just need to use the fireplace."

She nodded understandingly. "Oh, if you must, dear. Just until you get yourself warm, is it?"

"Something like that." He approached the fireplace, stood in front of it, and it was like the flames were caressing his face. Heavenly, after his trek through the snow. He hesitated and looked back at her. "Actually, I will take some biscuits. A plateful, please."

She beamed. "Right away."

The moment she left the room, he pulled a small bag from his breast pocket. Inside was a fine green powder. Caradoc opened up the bag, took out a fistful of the powder, and stepped closer to the fireplace.

"Would you like tea as well, dear?" asked the lady, poking her head back in. She looked at the bag of powder in his hands, and once again her eyes expanded like balloons. "What's that you've got there?"

"This?" asked Caradoc, looking down at the bag and his fistful of powder. "This is… drugs."

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Lily deviated between stirring the cauldron and chancing glances over to where he was sat with Sirius. The two were barely paying attention to their work, which was nothing new to Lily.

"It's a disaster waiting to happen," said Alice from beside her. "Giving a bunch of teenagers the means and the _permission_ to brew love potions in class. Who thought that was a good idea? Really, Lily, who?"

"Who knows," said Lily absent-mindedly.

"Every year it happens. Did you know that? Every year, Slughorn will tell his Sixth Years to brew love potions, and they'll all giggle to each other about being able to smell one of their classmates in their potion, and flirt with one another senselessly in front of the class. It fuels the gossip around the school for days whenever it happens."

"Mhm."

"And for what? It serves no purpose other than to stir up our already hyper-active hormones, and that's not even mentioning the fact that every year someone will knick some love potion, or some Felix Felicis, and the whole school will go crazy. And the teachers are always so surprised, wondering how on earth that happened. It's every year, Lily!"

Lily looked at Alice shrewdly. "Do you smell Frank in the potion, Alice?"

The blonde girl lost some of the gusto she spoke with, and there was a red tinge to her cheeks. "It doesn't matter what I smell in it. I simply-"

Lily tuned her friend out, and took a deep whiff of the potion for herself. It didn't matter how basic, overdone, or uninspired Alice made it out to be. She could smell James Potter in the Amortentia.

So what did that mean?

It was a love potion. Lily was perfectly prepared these days to admit to herself that she liked him. But _love_?

Aside from its various other scents, the particular smell of her home, the fresh, papery smell of a new book, and a specific scent of vanilla, the potion provided Lily with the overpowering, alien scents of broomstick polish, pressed Quidditch robes, and the whiskey she had tasted on James' lips back in Portugal while ringing in the new year.

"Are you listening to me, Lily?"

"No."

Could she love James Potter so soon after she'd started _liking_ him? And how could she be sure of the difference between the two?

"Do you smell Quidditch stuff in that potion?" asked Alice with a cheeky grin.

Lily looked at her sharply.

"You forget," said Alice, her eyes twinkling, "that James was my boyfriend for a little while there. Always smells like Quidditch, that boy."

Lily _had_ forgotten. Her best friend had dated Lily's- James Potter. She certainly didn't want to try processing how this made her feel given recent developments.

"How," said Lily, torn between wanting to change the subject and her desire for an answer, "do you reckon Amortentia qualifies something as 'love-worthy', in order for one to smell it in the potion?"

Alice wrinkled her nose and shrugged. "You're the Potions expert, not me. But I doubt there's a proper answer for that one. Love is relative, isn't it? I've always loved chocolate cake, a lot of my best memories are on my birthday, so chocolate cake is one of the things I smell in the potion. I _like_ pumpkin juice, but I don't smell it in Amortentia."

"Right," said Lily.

"That being said, the potion might also give us a whiff of something we like but might not necessarily love. How is the potion to know? Maybe I just _like_ chocolate cake."

"Hmm."

"It's simultaneously the most complicated, and the most simple thing in the world. As I said, it's all relative."

"You're really not helping me a whole lot."

Alice gave her a knowing look. "Whatever you're smelling in that potion, think about it some more. Getting within close proximity to the source might help."

"Alice…"

"_Whatever_ it is that you smell," Alice said, looking like she was fighting off a grin. "For all I know, it could just be pumpkin juice."

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"Where are you now?" asked Dumbledore.

"Ireland," said Caradoc Dearborn, his face poking up through the embers of the fireplace. "I'm borrowing a Muggle lady's fireplace, and she'll be back any moment now."

McGonagall stepped forward, feeling the urgency. "There is little time, then. We must know who leaked the fact that you're a Death Eater without them being aware that you are a spy."

"I think I know who," said Caradoc. "Taureau Barkley."

"The man we suspect of working under Blithe?" asked Anton Windstrum, stepping forward beside McGonagall. The three Professors bunched together in Dumbledore's study and peered down at Caradoc's flickering features. "Why would he expose you if he's in league with the Death Eaters? As far as he knows, you're on his side."

"I don't think it's accurate to say he's in league with the Death Eaters at all," said Caradoc. "I've come across him a handful of times now. From what I gather, he's a wand for hire. A mercenary. Aside from Blithe's direct orders, I'm assuming he does whatever he pleases."

"So you believe he has reason to work against you?" Dumbledore asked.

"Oh, I've given him plenty of reasons to work against me. It's simply a matter of whether or not he's figured them out yet."

"We have to know for sure," said Dumbledore. "Whoever this person is, they did this through a vial containing their own memory of you at the battle of Síla, marching with the Death Eaters, alongside the message that you are a Death Eater. They placed this message in the Auror Department the day before yesterday. This means we know where they were, and when they were there. We must uncover their identity, and ascertain if this is a new enemy, or old."

"There's a charm we use to collect foot traffic data," said Caradoc. "There should be a record of all who entered the Auror Department that day, and when they left. There's only one problem."

"Let me guess," said Anton with a grimace. "The records will be in the office of the Department Head."

Caradoc nodded heavily.

"Emmett Fawley," said Dumbledore contemplatively. "This could prove problematic."

"Yeah," said Caradoc, wrinkling his nose in the fireplace. "Fawley is our number one suspect of being Blithe, and we'll have to go through him."

"We can send Fleamont Potter," McGonagall suggested. "As Fawley's predecessor, he held that same office mere months ago. I'm sure he can make some excuse to stop by and pick something up."

"Not without Fawley peering over his shoulder," said Caradoc.

"I agree," said Windstrum. "We'll have to send someone Fawley will overlook. Someone with good reason to be in that office, but who won't raise Fawley's guard."

"Who do you propose?" asked McGonagall.

"Fleamont Potter's son," said Anton, the ghost of a smile on his face. "James."

"No," said McGonagall immediately.

"That's not a bad idea, though," said Caradoc. "I worked with Potter briefly on New Year's eve. He has a good head on his shoulders."

"How briefly?" McGonagall asked, her shoulders heaving with exasperation.

"James is more than capable, Minerva," Dumbledore said quietly.

"He's a _teenager_, Albus. A student!"

"And all he must do is tell Fawley his father left something in that office, he will rummage about for the records without Fawley being overly cautious, and then leave without raising any suspicion. No danger at all."

McGonagall couldn't believe what she was hearing. "With all due respect, Headmaster, you've never taught James Potter."

"Send him with another student, then," said Caradoc. "A responsible one. He's friends with the Head Boy, is he not?"

"He is," said Windstrum slowly, "but we don't want to arouse suspicion. Sending the Head Boy will make the two conspicuous. James Potter and Frank Longbottom will not go unnoticed traipsing about the Ministry."

"His other friend, then. Black."

"Absolutely not," said McGonagall.

"Ah," spoke up Dumbledore suddenly, his face brightening. "I know _exactly_ who to send James with."

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"Potter, we have to follow instructions," said Lily crossly.

London was busy at this time of day. People walking hither and thither, straightfaced workers, excitable children and their hassled parents formed an endless flow of people bustling from street to street. To Lily, it was a _terrible _place to try apparating from.

"It's so much faster, Evans. I doubt Dumbledore will care _how_ we get into the Ministry."

"Potter, we are not allowed to apparate-"

"But we both know how to apparate."

"So? Neither of us have our licences. Apparition classes don't even start until next week." She smiled politely at a passing business woman, and turned back to him. "Not to mention the fact that it's impossible to apparate from here without being seen."

"Is that so?"

"Yes!" An alley approached on their right, and Lily saw James eyeing it. She narrowed her eyes at him. "What?"

He nodded towards it. "What's that?"

"What's what?"

"That," he said, changing their course towards the alley. "I'm sure I saw…"

Lily sighed as he entered the alley, and she stood on the sidewalk to wait for him to come back. When ten seconds passed, she poked her head in. "Potter?"

There was no response.

Biting her lip, she stepped in and-

A hand grabbed hers, space twisted and the air compressed, squeezed and tugged at her form, and as quickly as it started, it stopped.

"Welcome to the Auror Department, Evans."

A bustling world of robed figures and marble walls, flying paper planes and owls, and _magic_ exploded around her. Beside her, holding her hand, was James Potter. And he looked smug.

Lily snatched her hand from his grasp and smacked him on the chest as hard as she could.

"Don't you _ever_," another smack, "apparate me," and another, "without my permission," one more, "again, Potter!"

He grinned, unfazed, and Lily pulled her arm back to smack him on the face this time, but he turned on his heel and started walking. Fuming, she ran after him.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"To Emmett Fawley's office. Dumbledore gave us _instructions_, afterall, Evans."

Lily fought to control her temper, and after a few seconds of walking beside him she trusted herself to speak. "Splendid."

He looked at her, amused. "That's all you have to say?"

"That's all I have to say that won't get you sent to St Mungo's, Potter."

He smirked, and she wanted to smack him again. The Amortentia reckoned she loved _this_?

"Can I help you?" asked a bespectacled lady sitting behind a desk.

"We're here to see Mr Fawley," said James. "He's expecting us."

She checked a note on her desk and looked back up. "James and Lily?"

"That's us," said Lily, forcing a smile.

The lady nodded. "Someone will be along to-"

"Don't worry," said James, waving her off. "I know the way."

He set off at a brisk pace into the heart of the department, and Lily smiled awkwardly at the lady before running to catch up to him. She didn't look back to see if the lady would protest. "Do you really know the way?" she asked.

"Yeah. When it was my dad's office and not Fawley's, I would come by to visit all the time. I wonder what he's done with the place… If it's true he's a Death Eater, this will likely be a very different visit from my previous ones. You're up for a fight, right?"

She smiled wryly at him. "You of all people should know, Potter, that I'm always up for a fight."

He smiled back. "Glad to hear it."

They reached what must have been Fawley's office, as James knocked on it and entered without waiting for a response. Inside was a neat little room, with a bookcase, a desk, and a straight-backed wooden chair. All papers were stacked tidily, and the floor was spotless. Emmett Fawley, the man from all the papers, looked up from his desk and raised his eyebrows. He had sharp features. His dark eyes were piercing.

"Mr Potter. Mrs… Evans, I believe?"

Lily nodded.

"You are early. I wasn't expecting you for another-"

"Yeah," said James, ignoring him. "We got let out of class early. Hey, I'm just going to grab what we came for and we'll head off, alright?"

Fawley gestured wide. "Be my guest. You're always welcome here. Your father was one of our department's greatest, after all. What is it of his that you need to collect? Surely he could have come to collect it himself rather than have his son travel from Hogwarts. I'd have loved to chat with him."

"He has a wedding to attend in the Alps," James said disinterestedly, as he rummaged through some files stacked away in the bookcase. "He left some of his own papers here."

"Papers? What kind?"

"Private," said James with a tone of finality.

Lily gaped at him, but Fawley nodded graciously. "Understandable. Where are your visitor's badges, by the way?"

"Somewhere," said James, shrugging.

"You didn't apparate in, did you?"

James didn't respond. He didn't even bother looking up from the papers, and Lily was torn between wanting to punch him again and apologize profusely to Fawley.

Fawley sighed. "Mr Potter, really. There is a process. You need visitor's badges. I should be escorting you from the Ministry right now."

"Found it," said James happily, pulling a sheet of paper from a folder and stuffing the folder back in the bookcase. He folded the paper and tucked it away in his pocket, before smiling at Fawley and taking Lily by the arm. "Always a pleasure, Mr Fawley."

Fawley pursed his lips. "Likewise, Mr P-"

James pulled Lily from the room and closed the door behind them. He turned to grin at her. "Easy as that."

Lily didn't know where to begin. "You- you're-"

"Brilliant?"

"You're _insane_, Potter. How could you do all that so casually?"

He shrugged. "Equal parts charm, confidence, and luck."

Lily could only shake her head. Whether for better or worse, he never ceased to amaze her.

And he was still holding her arm. She could smell him, and felt herself start to freeze up.

"Now, I know you _just_ told me never to do this again, but-" the world twisted and distorted around them, and suddenly they were back in the alley, "it really is much faster than the visitor's entrance."

Lily didn't care this time. She could smell him, and they stood close, and she could smell him. Broomstick polish, pressed Quidditch robes. The boy really did always smell like Quidditch. The scents tangled with Lily's frustrations and affections, her memories, her recollection of their kiss. It all put Lily in the sky herself, flying hundreds of miles an hour, giddy and electrified. That was the effect he had on her, especially at this proximity.

James removed his hand from her arm, and Lily was back on the ground. Wide-eyed, heart pounding. She wanted to feel that again. "Now-"  
Lily grabbed him by the collar and pulled him in, pulled his face to hers, and she kissed him, hard and firm. He chuckled against her lips, and brought a hand up to her cheek. His other hand found the small of her back, holding her, pressing her close.

Lily intensified the kiss. It was less feverish than their kiss on New Year's, more controlled and deliberate. Each movement, every swish of a tongue and press of a hand, elicited a new wave of emotion from Lily. She felt giddy, felt her knees weaken, and as their bodies pressed ever closer against each other her mind grew more and more fuzzy.

Lily pulled back a little, but didn't leave his embrace. Took a breath, let her heartbeat steady. She looked at him, their faces an inch apart. "This time we're both sober."

James smiled. His eyes were full of questions, and he asked what seemed to Lily as the most important one first. "What time are we expected back at the castle?"

Lily bit her lip. "I reckon in time for lunch."

"Well, what do you say we eat lunch here, and _then_ head back?"

"Potter," she said, grinning widely, "that's the smartest thing you've said all day."

James smirked and pulled away. He wrapped his arm around her waist, and together they started walking. "Then clearly, you haven't been paying attention."

The two emerged from the alley and onto the busy street, crowded as always with-

They bumped into a man, who stepped back and looked at them. His skin was dark. He wore a white suit with gold pinstripes, and perched on the bridge of his nose, covering his eyes, were a pair of aviator sunglasses.

"You two," said Taureau Barkley, frowning a little.

James dropped his arm from Lily's waist, and the pair drew their wands in a flash.

"You," snarled James.

Around them, ordinary, every-day people continued going about their business, taking little notice of the wizards and the witch, no clue how close they were to danger.

"I have no quarrel with either of you," said Taureau Barkley, his voice measured. "Put those away."

"Hey, Lily," said James lightly, "want to know whose name I saw on the paper we just took from Emmett Fawley's office?"

The man's head tilted.

"Stop talking," Lily breathed.

"Taureau Barkley," James declared. "We know you're the one who leaked that Caradoc's a Death Eater."

A small smile from the man. "And have you wondered yet why I didn't also leak the fact that he's a spy on the Death Eaters? Because I know that, too."

James faltered.

"You all know I am under the employ of a Death Eater, I presume," Taureau Barkley continued. "It might interest you to know that I have told no one of this discovery."

Lily frowned. "You're lying."

"It is true," he said. "Not a soul. You see, my quarrel with Dearborn is personal. He runs for his life now only because I deem it so. Eventually, I will kill him. But you need not get involved. Put your wands away, and no one will be hurt today."

Lily bit her lip. Slowly, she lowered her wand and looked at James. "Potter, put it away. We can't fight him. Not here."

James didn't move.

"Potter, there are Muggles everywhere. Put it away _now_."

Looking frustrated, James lowered his wand too.

Taureau Barkley smiled, and nodded to Lily. "You are wise." And with that, he walked past them as though he hadn't been interrupted at all.

Lily let out a slow breath, and looked at James. His eyes were downcast. "Merlin," she said, nudging him. "That was-"

James whirled around and Lily watched in slow motion as he grabbed Taureau Barkley and dragged him into the alley.

"Potter!" She darted into the alley and saw the two wrestling on the ground, their wands discarded already. Lily pulled her own wand back out and levelled it at them. "Stop!"

They froze. The man had his forearm around James' throat. James' face was red, but slowly regained color as the man loosened his grip a little. "Let go of him," Lily said, scooping up the two discarded wands and tucking them into her pocket.

"I think not," said Taureau Barkley. "Not while you have a wand on me."

"This is not a negotiation," she said coldly.

"Oh, I know," he said. "I have all the power in this situation."

Lily frowned. "What?"

In one movement, the man lifted himself to his feet and held James' prone form in front of him. His grip tightened once more around James' neck, and James made a strangled sound. "Lower your wand," the man said quietly, "and roll mine along the ground to me. If I even suspect any ill intentions from you, your friend gets his neck snapped."

Lily's blood chilled. James' face was red again, and panic rose up inside her, seizing her limbs. She lowered her wand, and as soon as she did so the man loosened his grip once more, and James gasped for air.

"My wand, please. Slowly."

Lily pulled the man's wand from her pocket, being sure to keep her movements slow. Her hands were shaking. "Okay," she said, placing the wand on the ground. "Here it is." She gave it a gentle push, and it rolled towards him.

Taureau Barkley stooped and picked it up, but as he did so James swung wildly from his grip.

"Potter, stop!"

The man moved impossibly fast, slamming James against the wall. Lily raised her wand again, but the man raised his own, placed it right at James' neck, and she froze. "Put," he said quietly, "you wand _down_."

"Let go of him first," Lily said, angry now. "We had a deal!"

"We had no deal. And your friend has exhausted the last of my patience. Now, I will not ask again."

Furious, and still shaking, Lily lowered her wand one more time.

The man pocketed his own wand. Lily saw James' eyebrows furrow in confusion, and she begged silently that he would simply be still. Then the man grabbed James' arm, pinned his hand in place against a thin crack in the wall.

"What?" James mumbled.

Taureau Barkley pulled a knife from his pocket-

"No! Stop!"

-and plunged it through James' palm, right into the crack.

James screamed.

"Potter!"

Lily ran to him, the man took a step back, and James' voice cracked, was hoarse, and still he screamed. He threw his head back, his eyes screwed shut, pain etched onto his face.

"Potter, I'll- I'll take it out, okay? Potter, listen to me-"

There was a _crack_. Lily glanced behind her quickly.

Taureau Barkley was gone.

She turned back to James. Muggles started streaming into the alley, having heard the commotion.

"What's all this?"

"Oh my God."

"What happened?"

"Potter," Lily said, wrapping her shaking fingers around the knife's hilt. "I'm going to take it out now, okay? Potter, can you hear me? Potter!"

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Through the open windows of the Hospital Wing, the melodic trills of birds accompanied by a light breeze drifted in, floated around the room, and distracted James from being lectured by his Transfiguration teacher.

"You had one job," McGonagall was saying, for what must have been the fifth time since she'd laid her furious eyes on him. "Go to the Ministry, acquire the file. _Not_ attack a trained killer in broad daylight on Charing Cross Road!"

James had stopped arguing back, and simply reclined in his bed and pressed his lips together tightly.

"I told Dumbledore it wasn't a good idea to send you. I told him!"

"I still got the job done," he grumbled.

"And you almost got yourself killed, almost exposed magic to the world, in the process! Do you even understand how much you risked by trying to be the hero, Potter?"

"I wasn't trying to be the hero," James muttered.

"Then what were you trying to be? An idiot? Because you at least succeeded on that count!"

James glared at his bed sheets and said nothing.

"Dumbledore has finally agreed with me that it is foolish to send children on important missions."

"What? No, Professor, I'm capable-"

"Capable of getting yourself killed, perhaps. No, Potter. Until you and your friends finish your education, you shall play no further role in this war."

James sat up sharply in his bed. "I'm already playing a role in this war! My friends' lives are constantly in danger!"

"I understand that, Potter, but that isn't an excuse to throw your own life away."

"I can _help_!" James stood up, furious. "I made a mistake this time. Alright, I've learned my lesson. That doesn't mean you have to punish me!"

"Potter…" McGonagall sighed. "If you view this as a punishment, you haven't really learned your lesson at all." She turned and began to walk from the room, and James stared, his head pounding and his hand aching. She paused and looked back when she reached the doors. "Given the circumstances, you need not hand in your essay on human transfiguration. I do still expect to see you in class, though."

It turned out that McGonagall was not the only one James found himself on poor terms with. From the moment James and Lily had reached the Hospital Wing, she had suddenly started ignoring him. She'd simply explained the situation to Madame Pomphrey and stalked from the room, wasting not a second. James had initially thought that she simply had an aversion to blood, but when he turned up for lunch he found that she had decided to pretend he didn't exist.

"Hello? Evans, can you hear me?"

Stone faced, she looked only at her plate and ate silently. James looked at Alice and Marlene, frowning.

"She wants us to ignore you," Marlene explained.

"Marlene!" Lily turned to her and glared. "Really?"

"Oh, come on, Lily. You really wanted me to ignore him?"

"_Yes_."

"What are we, toddlers?"

"Hi, James," said Alice, smiling.

"Hey, Alice," said James, relaxing a little. Lily, at his voice, had gone back to eating in silence. "Erm, do you know why Evans is ignoring me?"

"Yes," said Marlene.

"No," said Alice. "She hasn't explained a thing."

"Whose side are you on?" Marlene whispered.

"Sanity's," said Alice.

"Are you sure?" Marlene raised an eyebrow. "He _is_ your ex-boyfriend, after all."

"Quite sure."

Marlene turned back to James. "Clearly, you've done something stupid and Lily's cross with you."

"Is that what this is about, Evans? You're mad at me about earlier?"

"I was right?" asked Marlene, grinning. "Oh, I am good."

"It wasn't that hard," said Alice. "What else could it have been?"

Marlene shrugged. "I don't know. Hey, Potter, does it have anything to do with why your hand is all bandaged up?"

"Um," said James. Lily's eyes were on his hand now, but she said nothing. "Most probably."

"He punched someone," Marlene told Alice. "Really hard."

Alice shook her head. "I don't think that's it."

"Lily," said Marlene seriously, "did James punch you?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Hey, do you two reckon you can let me talk to Evans alone?"

Marlene and Alice looked at Lily, who, after a few more seconds of staring at her plate, shook her head firmly. The two looked back at James apologetically.

"Alright," he sighed. "I guess I'll see you lot in class."

Not in class, not in the corridors, and nor in the Common Room would Lily look at or speak to James. It frustrated him to no end. He would approach her, talk to her, and she would maintain her position that he did not exist. The worst time over the next few days was when she had walked past James and Sirius in a corridor and nodded to the latter, saying, "Black," before continuing on her way.

"I tell you, Padfoot," James said as they walked down the stairs to the Entrance Hall, "it's like being in Fifth Year again, except worse. At least then she yelled at me."

"Women," said Sirius gruffly. "Waste of time, if you ask me."

"Right," said James slowly. "You talked to Marlene recently?"

"Why would I?"

"Because you're still friends, Padfoot."

"I don't want to be her friend."

"Right," said James again. "And you think this is a mature reaction?"

"It's the most mature reaction she's going to get from me, I'm afraid."

They entered the Great Hall, and James sighed. "We make a fine pair of prats, don't we?"

"It's one of the many things we excel at, my dear Mr Prongs."

Most of their year level was already assembled. Ahead of them all, standing atop the stairs to the teacher's table, was an elderly wizard with blue robes and a long beard. He was in the middle of what seemed like a lengthy speech, judging from the dazed expressions of their classmates.

"-your will to be in that space will manifest into the _power _to be in that space. From there, it is a simple matter of deliberation, and then," with a crack, the man appeared behind James and Sirius at the back of the crowd - the two jumped and turned to him awkwardly - and the man smiled, "just like that, you apparate."

At his big finish, the sixth years looked to the back of the room and clapped half-heartedly. James spotted Lily among them, who stared resolutely at the man.

They were all then given wooden hoops, and the simple instruction to apparate into those hoops. James and Sirius found Remus and Peter in the middle of the Great Hall, and as the rest of their year went about trying to apparate, the four of them relaxed, for once not seeking any attention by going and apparating on their first attempts.

They, of course, had long since mastered the skill.

"I haven't," said Peter. "I haven't mastered the skill."

"Just relax, Pete," said Sirius. "We'll teach you later."

"I think Peter should work on it now," said Remus. "In a controlled environment, with supervision."

"Ah, Remus, don't be such a Prefect."

James looked across the Great Hall to where Lily, Marlene, and Alice stood in front of their hoops. Alice and Marlene wasted no time in apparating into their own hoops, which was received by applause from the old man and some of the students. Around the room, only Snape and two Ravenclaws had also managed the feat. Lily, however, seemed to be perturbed. She stood in front of her hoop, frowning at it.

She knew how to apparate. James had seen her do it. So what was wrong?

"Hey," James said to his friends. "Is it just me, or is Evans having trouble apparating for some reason?"

"James, let her be," said Remus with a sigh.

"No, really. I think something's the matter."

"Who cares?" said Sirius. "It's not like she would want _your_ help, anyway."

"Oi."

"It's true."

"It is true," said Remus apologetically.

James looked at Peter, who wore an identical expression to Lily, frowning at his hoop.

"Yeah," James said finally. "Alright."

And so the weeks passed, and not much changed. Lily's birthday came and went. She spent it solely with Marlene and Alice, and James didn't see much point in buying her a gift given that she would almost certainly throw it in the fireplace.

As more weeks continued to go by, her efforts to completely ignore him diminished somewhat. She had now spoken to him a total of six times. A handful of those had been things like "pass me the butter", followed closely by, "thank you". There had been one "excuse me" in the corridor, which had really made James' day. The sixth had been a "bless you" after James had sneezed. Lily had realized it was James who had sneezed, and colored quickly before averting her gaze.

And still, Lily couldn't apparate.

"There must be something wrong," said James during their fifth apparition class. "We know she can do it. Why is she struggling?"

"I'll grant you," said Remus, watching her, "it is odd that she still hasn't managed it. Lily, of all people."

"Do you think I should-"

"I think you should do nothing, James. She'll work it out."

"And when do you think she'll stop ignoring me?"

Remus hesitated. "When she first started, I thought it would last a day. Perhaps a week. That's how it's always been with you two. Hot, then cold, then hot again. But now… I don't know. She must _really_ hate when you get into fights."

James grimaced. "I'm not sure that's all it is."

Remus shrugged. "I suppose you _can_ try talking to her, then. At least get an answer of some sort."

"And why would she choose now to start talking to me? I've tried a million times."

"She still might not," said Remus. "I don't know. But you have a marvellous track record for not giving up when it comes to her. Work your magic."

James worked his magic the next week.

It was ten minutes before their next apparition class, and the Marauder's Map had told him exactly where to find her. The weeks spent with absolute minimal contact with her had been torture. To go from being closer than they had ever been before to their current stalemate was the worst part sort of sentence for James. He had seen her smile from across the room, but when it wasn't at him, when she wasn't laughing at something that _he_ had said, it simply didn't feel the same, didn't make James as happy and fulfilled as he knew it could.

He missed talking to her, laughing with her, arguing with her, and simply being around her.

So he found Lily in the library, packing her things into her back, presumably about to make her way to the Great Hall.

"Evans," he said, stepping forward, "we need to talk."

She had looked up at his voice, and swiftly looked back down when she saw him.

"Come on. It's been over a month. Can I at least know why you're ignoring me?"

She swung her bag over her shoulder and started walking. James followed.

"Fine. Don't talk. I'm still going to annoy you, though."

A sigh escaped from her lips, and James grinned.

"Right. Now, I'm going to try to understand what the problem is here. You're angry because I got into a fight, and-"

"You think that's why I'm angry?"

Lily had stopped walking, and James stopped beside her. They were in the corridor outside the library by then, and James had to stop himself from beaming as a result of the longest sentence she had spoken to him in weeks.

"Isn't it?"

"No," she said, still not looking at him. "It's not even that you ignored me telling you not to do anything just so you could play the hero."

"I wasn't-" James caught himself and let out a breath. "Okay. If not all that, then what?"

"You were injured, Potter. _Stabbed through the hand_."

"Yes, I remember."

"I was angry because I was scared. When I saw-" Lily stopped, and breathed heavily. "Look, I haven't enjoyed ignoring you anymore than you enjoyed being ignored."

"I doubt that very much," he muttered.

"After that day, I just needed some time to come to terms with… a few things."

"Like what?"

"I'll tell you another time."

"Another time? Evans, how about right-"

She stepped forward, wound her arms around his neck, and kissed him mid-sentence. Strong and controlled was the kiss, and James could have fainted from the overload of sudden emotions and thoughts. Confusion to relief, surprise to bliss. He had known he'd missed her, but it wasn't until then that he could truly quantify just how much. His arms around her waist, and the sweet smell of her shampoo and body-wash, vanilla and honey, the perfection of Lily Evans in his arms. She was more than he deserved, yet here she was.

She pulled back, after what could have been anywhere from a minute to an hour, and smiled. "You are officially forgiven for being a prat."

"You've still explained very little," he mumbled, "but consider me grateful."

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Lily walked with him to the Great Hall, and she left him with his friends. Alice and Marlene watched Lily with raised brows, having seen them walk in together, but Lily ignored them.

The wooden hoop was in front of her.

Destination.

_She could smell him._

Determination.

_Broomstick polish, pressed Quidditch robes. The boy really did always smell like Quidditch._

Deliberation.

_-her knees weakened, and as their bodies pressed ever closer against each other-_

Lily closed her eyes, heard the crack, opened them. She was in the hoop.

"Yes," cheered Alice, hugging her.

"Finally," said Marlene. "What took you so long?"

Lily knew exactly what.

Across the room, the messy haired boy grinned at her and gave her a thumbs up. She gave him the middle finger in return, and he sniggered before turning back to his friends.

He probably didn't know the full effect ignoring him had had on her. It was that smell. That stupid smell, and that stupid potion that had done it.

Then the idiot had gone and apparated with her, all while she breathed in his damn Quidditch-scent. It had been a problem waiting to happen.

And then there was her revelation.

Getting stabbed in the hand wasn't a mortal wound by any means. It shouldn't have affected her the way it did. But as she stood in that alley, seeing him in that pain, hearing him scream, she had felt… felt a certain way that she never wanted to feel again. Ever. It had been worse than if _she_ had been the one to get stabbed.

What is love? Lily had always wanted to know. How could one ever know? What was the test? Was there a metric? Could such a thing be measured?

The question had plagued her since that day in Potions. What she'd smelled had frightened her to her core at the time, only for her to then feel frightened, _truly_ frightened, that day in London, upon which Lily's question was answered. Lily knew what Amortentia had known.

She loved him.

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**A/N: This one took me a while. I always know exactly what will happen in each chapter, but the right words just weren't coming to me this time. Please review, kick-start my brain!**


	22. To Seize a Chance

"I see you've run into a familiar problem."

Lily shook herself and looked at Alice inquisitively. "What do you mean?"

"You know." Alice nodded to further down the Gryffindor table, where the Quidditch team sat eating breakfast together. "_Him_."

Lily didn't need further clarification. _Him_ could only be one person. "What about him?"

The dark haired Ravenclaw girl sitting next to James Potter threw her head back and let out a peal of laughter.

"You know exactly what."

"I really don't."

"James is popular. Ridiculously popular, in fact."

Lily pressed her lips together.

"Don't worry, I was in the exact same situation you've now found yourself in when _I _was dating him."

"I'm not dating him."

Alice seemed not to hear her. "It's not easy, I know, to have to watch girls throw themselves at him. To be jealous is only natural."

"I'm not jealous."

A blonde Hufflepuff girl waved to James as she walked past him, her hand brushing his shoulder.

Lily's fists clenched.

"And I'm going to do you a favor," Alice continued. "I can tell you exactly which girls to watch out for, and which ones you can simply disregard."

"I don't care," Lily said a tad weakly, hoping her friend would ignore her again.

"Now listen closely," said Alice without missing a beat. "You see that dark haired one sitting next to him? That's May Harper, a Fifth Year who's been flirting with him non-stop for over a year, but James never gives her the time of day. You can dismiss her completely."

Lily made a note in the back of her head.

"You see the blonde girl who just waved to him? Clarabelle, Hufflepuff. James pretty much ignores her. The girl staring at him from further down the table over there? The one with the glasses? Kate Bingsley. She may as well not exist for all he cares."

Lily raised an eyebrow. "I feel like you're trying to make a point."

"I am. My point being, James doesn't care about _any_ of those girls. He cares about you. And, quite briefly of course, me."

"Right."

"So don't let any of it bother you, Lily. There's nothing to worry about."

"Hm," was all Lily said in response.

She wanted to give no indication that she cared in the slightest about any of it. Though being in love with James Potter was no longer beneath her, jealousy certainly still was. The last thing she wanted to broadcast to others was the full extent to which she'd fallen for the sodding boy.

Despite herself, though, she felt better.

A red-headed girl came up behind James, then. She gave him a hug, said something in his ear, and he laughed. She said one more thing and squeezed his shoulder before walking off.

Alice winced and swore under her breath. "I forgot about her."

"Who?" said Lily, perhaps too quickly.

"The one girl who you actually might need to fight off. Rose Fawcett - she's the cousin of Amelia Fawcett, Frank's ex."

"That family," muttered Lily, watching the girl walk to the Slytherin table and sit.

"Indeed."

"So why do I have to fight- erm, why do you think I have to fight her?"

Alice hesitated. "She and James have, shall we say, a history."

"Right," said Lily. "But I'm sure that's not uncommon."

"Actually, the specific history they have is the kind that you can only ever share with one person."

Lily frowned and waited for her to elaborate.

"No? You're still not getting it?" Alice sighed. "Look, James should really be the one to tell you this, but he and Rose…"

Lily's eyes widened. "Hold on, are you talking about _sex_?"

"Thank you," said Alice, looking relieved. "Yes, I am."

"Potter's had sex?"

"Well, yeah," said Alice, frowning like it was obvious.

"With Rose Fawcett…" Lily looked at the expression on Alice's face and froze. "Wait, Alice, you- while you and Potter were together, did you… you didn't…?"

Alice looked down and opened her mouth.

"Ladies," said Sirius Black loudly, dropping down beside Lily. "It's the morning of a Quidditch game. You should look more excited!"

_Later_, Alice mouthed to Lily.

Lily nodded, and looked at Sirius. "Black. How are you?"

"Grand, thank you. Gryffindor is going to absolutely trollop Slytherin."

"You think so?" asked Alice.

Sirius gawped at her. "My dear Ms Prewett, could it ever be put to question? Of course we will." Then he looked at Lily and winked. "Your first time watching a Quidditch game while being one of James' play-things. How do you feel?"

"I am _not_ one of Potter's play-things," Lily spat. "Nor do I much care about the game."

"Ah, you will," said Sirius dismissively. "All of you do, when the moment comes."

"All of who?" asked Lily. "What moment?"

"When the legion of girls at James' beck and call watch his Quidditch games, their hearts are in their mouths. Every push and every shove he takes up in the air elicits gasps from them. And Merlin forbid the moment a bludger strikes. You'll be close to passing out, Evans."

Lily's jaw dropped in offence, and she looked to Alice for solace.

"He's got a point," said Alice apologetically.

"Alice!"

"Face it, Evans," Sirius continued. "You're going to be one of those girls who goes running onto the field when James is injured, screaming his name like a maniac."

Lily shook her head resolutely. "No."

"Then you're going to sit with him all night in the Hospital Wing while he sleeps, and you'll be the first thing he sees when he wakes up."

"No," she said again.

"It's going to be adorable."

"It does sound quite cute," Alice admitted.

"Alice, stop agreeing with him!"

"Sorry, Lily. The two of you are just too romantic for your own good."

Fuming, Lily folded her arms. "Bugger the both of you."

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Watching Gryffindor absolutely trollop Slytherin was one of the most painful things Antonin Dolohov had ever had to endure. In the first hour of the game, Slytherin was down forty to one hundred and sixty. It was unheard of.

He signalled to Madam Hooch for a timeout and waited for his team to gather around him.

"What's wrong, Captain?" asked Travers once they were together.

Mulciber glared at Travers. "We're down by one hundred and twenty points. That's what's wrong."

"I was just asking him a question."

"Don't ask dumb questions."

"He has a point, though," said Wilkes. "What _is_ wrong? Why are we losing so badly?"

Now that they were all there, looking at him, Dolohov didn't know what to say.

"Could one of the Gryffindors have snagged some Felix Felicis?" asked Rosier. "I know there's a batch going around after Potions last week."

"They must have," cursed Travers. "Bastards!"

"No," said Mulciber. "Potter's not the type."

"You in love with Potter, then?" sneered Travers. "He's too honourable, is that it?"

"Too prideful," Mulciber said. "He'd sooner forfeit the match than cheat."

"Sounds like you're in love with him," Travers sniggered.

"Do you want a go, Travers? Right now, I'll wring you out in front of the whole school." Mulciber pulled his wand out. "Go on!"

"Put that away," snapped Avery. "We need to focus. Dolohov, you called this timeout. Say something."

Dolohov looked away from them, to where the Gryffindor team was huddled on the far side of the pitch. "Something is wrong," he said eventually. "We're not this bad. I _know_ we're not this bad."

"Thanks, captain," said Wilkes.

"You know what I mean."

"I don't think we're this bad either, captain," said Travers.

Dolohov ignored him. "I don't know what's going on, or how this is happening. All I know is I want to knock that smug expression right off of Potter's face."

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From the stands, Lily smirked at the look on James' face as Hooch blew her whistle and the Gryffindor team broke apart to resume play. Finally, after all these years, she had been broken. She enjoyed seeing him being arrogant.

"You know, Evans," said Sirius, "the developments of this year have been quite surreal. I never thought I'd watch a Quidditch game with you."

"Surreal is one way to put it," said Lily. "Unfortunate is another."

He looked at her, then turned to his other side.

"Oi, Moony," she heard him whisper. "Is she this mean to you when you hang out?"

"No."

"I thought not. Is she perhaps in a bad mood?"

"I think you're just annoying, Padfoot."

Lily gasped.

Alice nudged her, smirking. "That bludger came quite close to him just now, eh?"

"Really?" asked Lily, trying and failing to convincingly feign ignorance. "I didn't notice."

"Hm."

James was remarkably good at flying. As untrained as Lily's eyes were, she had still figured that out quite quickly. His weaving and rolling, quick turns and jarring speeds, were unmatched by any of the other specks in the sky. Granted, all she could really make out a lot of the time were specks in the sky.

"Here."

Lily paused her squinting up at the clouds to look at Sirius, who held a contraption out to her.

"Take my Omnioculars. You'll be able to actually see what's going on."

"I can already see what's going on," said Lily, making to turn away again.

"Yeah? Then what's going on?"

Lily paused and turned back. "Potter just scored, there was a timeout, and now he's flying around looking smug."

"That was two minutes ago."

"He still looks smug though."

"Can you see him?"

"I just know it."

"Take the Omnioculars, Evans."

She pressed her lips together and stared at him imperiously.

"For Merlin's sake," said Sirius. "Moony, give these to Evans, will you?"

Remus took the modified and charmed binoculars from Sirius and passed them over Sirius to Lily.

"Thank you, Remus," Lily said primly, taking them and holding them up to her eyes.

She heard Remus snigger. "Someone's not a fan of you, Padfoot."

"I'm picking up on that," Sirius muttered. "Stubborn about it, too. She and James are perfect for each other, you know."

Lily didn't let herself blush at hearing that. She was getting rather good at controlling the color of her cheeks now, due to how often the need to do so arose. At this point she was a master of it.

"You're blushing," Alice whispered.

Lily ignored her. Up in the sky, James did indeed still look smug. He was saying something to Frank by the Gryffindor hoops, and the two were sniggering.

"It's quite neat," Alice said, "that our boyfriends are good friends. Don't you think?"

Lily lowered the Omnioculars and fixed Alice with a stare.

"Before you say _he's not my boyfriend_," Alice continued with a roll of her eyes, "let me finish my point, and then we can go back to your pretend world where two people can kiss and love each other yet not be together."

"It's complicated," Lily muttered.

"Anyway, as I was saying..."

Lily lifted the Omnioculars again and went back to watching the game, while Alice began to outline how fascinating she found it that the boys with which her and Lily were _involved_ were friends, and what it might signify on a deeper level about the two girls and how much they had in common and how compatible the-

The Quidditch game was far more interesting - a thought which Lily had never expected to run through her mind. She suspected Alice was bringing James up so often these days to try and prompt or steer Lily's mind towards, well… _James_. She knew she shouldn't be surprised, as even though Alice was no longer dating the Quidditch captain, the girl was still awfully loyal to him in some regards. Theirs was a peculiar friendship. So too, Lily supposed, was her own friendship with James.

"Are you enjoying my Omnioculars?"

Lily continued to ignore Sirius Black. Even if she did have the patience to deal with his seemingly infinite wellspring of energy, there would be no reason for her to do so. She did not need to get along with James' friends, and Lily would know that she had well and truly fallen from grace when she could say that she 'got along' with this particular friend of his. Besides, she already got along with Remus perfectly. And, as Alice was _still_ pointing out in Lily's other ear, she got along with Frank, too.

"Just think, Lily, if you and James get together before Valentine's Day we can all go on a double date. Wouldn't that be nice?"

Lily pondered this - biting the bullet and going out with James on Valentine's Day, a week away… What was stopping her? At any rate, it would make all those other girls who insisted on trying to spark his interest go away. Hopefully.

"If you turn the dial on the right lens, you can zoom in further. And if you twist it back, it makes everything turn blue! Pretty cool, right? Did you do it? Did you make it all blue?"

The thought of other girls and James stirred the already restless horde of angry buffaloes in Lily's stomach. She couldn't bear to think of it - it was _wrong_.

"It can make everything green, as well. Keep twisting the dial… Have you done it yet? I can't tell. Let me know when you do it."

And the revelation that James had been having sex with these girls! It made Lily feel ill. Granted, she only knew of one girl so far. Or at least, Alice had only confirmed one girl so far. And Alice…

"Promise me you'll think about it, Lily. James has had to wait long enough, after all."

"There's also a kaleidoscope feature on the left lens, if you want to give that a go. Do you want to give that a go? Go on, give it a go."

She tuned them both out. She had come to this game to watch James, and watch James she would. He had scored the lion's share of Gryffindor's points thus far, and his cocky grin grew wider after each lightning-fast dash to the Slytherin hoops. Lily smiled once more at the look on his face.

James had the Quaffle tucked under his arm. She watched him dodge Evan Rosier's attempt to swipe it from him, bolt right past Mulciber, and bear down on the Slytherin hoops. His shot was clear. He wound his arm back, Quaffle in hand, and threw it clean through the far right hoop - he scored! James turned his broom back, his smirk brash, his fist pumping the air, and Lily gave a whoop of joy, grinning from ear to ear.

Dolohov rammed into James' broom from the side. James jerked upon collision, and his body was thrown from the broom. Dolohov sped onwards, leaving James falling, dropping, speeding towards the bone-shattering ground below.

The Omnioculars fell, dropped, sped to the ground and smashed, but Lily was already at the end of the aisle, and then she was sprinting down the stairs of the stands. Mind racing, body racing down those stairs, and still James fell. Lily's heart was pounding faster than it ever had, each break between beats shorter than the beat itself.

_Please, please, please, please, please._

She had no trouble seeing his figure now. He had his wand out, trying to wave it. He didn't have enough time, he was too close to the ground, he was going to-

James yelled something and the air below him seemed to grow thicker to Lily's eyes, his descent slowed, not nearly enough but it slowed, and when he hit the ground he didn't splatter all over it, but rather fell hard, flat, and then he was still. It was like a pancake being thrown onto a pan.

Lily reached the pitch and ran across the grass, feeling like her heart might suddenly implode, for it couldn't keep up anymore. She was barely breathing.

The rest of the Gryffindor team had gotten to him first, and was huddled around him. Lily barged through. James was spread-eagled on the grass, his glasses fallen by his head, the lenses smashed. Lily wanted to fall down beside him. She was reminded of the London alley where she had seen him scream as a knife went through his hand. Seeing him in pain _hurt_ her.

McGonagall barged through beside Lily and conjured a stretcher in all the time it might take one to blink. "Longbottom, help me get him on this."

"Right."

Lily watched Frank and McGonagall levitate James onto the stretcher, and shook herself once he was strapped on. "I'm coming with you."

McGonagall frowned at her. "He's going to the Hospital Wing, Ms Evans."

"Yeah, I know."

"Professor," Frank said, looking like he wanted to hurry this along, "I imagine she wants to be by his side until he wakes up, and I don't fancy trying to change her mind."

McGonagall looked at Lily incredulously.

Lily nodded, her face set. "I'm not leaving him."

"Right," said McGonagall, shaking her head. "As you wish, Ms Evans. Though you'll have to make your case to Madam Pomfrey. Now help me get this poor boy to the Hospital Wing."

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James felt his entire body ache, and cracked his eyes open. A blurry face looked down at him, smiling.

James smirked, rubbed his eyes. It hurt to move his arms, but he wanted to see her. "Alright, Evans?"

Antonin Dolohov's smile grew wider. "Not bad, thanks."

A fist.

Blinding light and a sickening crunch as Dolohov punched James on the nose, and James cried out in pain. Tears filled his eyes. He couldn't see again, couldn't think from the pain but felt blood trickle down to his lips, a little in his mouth. He tasted it and gritted his teeth. Rubbed his eyes again and opened them wide.

Dolohov had stepped back, watching him now with a satisfied smirk.

James pushed himself up in his bed, winced at a searing pain in his chest, abdomen, and the centre of his spine, and he fixed Dolohov with a look exuding the utmost hatred. "Dolohov."

"Alright, Potter?"

James wiped the blood from his face with the sleeve of his hospital gown. He looked at the blood and looked back at Dolohov. "You pushed me off my broom."

A nod. "I did."

"Have you been expelled yet?"

"No. And I won't be. I was already flying towards you while you had the Quaffle, you see, and by the time you had thrown it it was too late. I couldn't correct my course-"

"You had plenty of time," James snapped.

"Yes, the rest of the school seems to think so too. But Madam Hooch had to abide by the rules, and the rules technically don't see that kind of collision as a violation as long as it's accidental. Which it was, of course."

James snorted. "Of course. So you haven't gotten in any trouble?"

"Oh, McGonagall tried expelling me, don't you worry. However, she had very little grounds on which to do so. I haven't even gotten a detention."

"What do you want, Dolohov?" asked James finally. "Why are you here?"

"I'm here to make a point." Dolohov stepped closer to the bed, his satisfied expression becoming menacing. "I don't fancy being played for a fool. Somehow, you cheated."

James frowned. "What?"

"Play dumb, if you want. I don't care. Perhaps you are not even aware. It doesn't matter."

"Aware of what?"

"Someone sabotaged our game. Cheated, so that you would win."

James stared. "Dolohov… I'm brilliant at Quidditch. I don't need to cheat to win."

Dolohov punched James in the chest, and James grunted as pain lanced through his torso, as bones that already felt shattered pushed into each other and seemed to poke at his insides.

"Watch what you say, Potter. You are at my mercy, and I've charmed the room to be soundproof."

James entered into a coughing fit, and when he stopped he looked at Dolohov disbelievingly. "Are you _trying_ to get expelled?"

"You won't tell any teachers about this," said Dolohov dismissively. "You're much too prideful. In the same vein, I don't think you had a personal hand in whatever foul play was conducted on our game. I respect you that much, at least. But _someone_ cheated for you. That is indisputable, and I will get to the bottom of it."

"Dolohov," said James, grimacing through the pain, "maybe you're just awful at Quidditch."

Dolohov smiled coldly and placed a hand to James' sternum.

James waited for whatever torture Dolohov had planned next.

Then he screamed.

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"Oh, Lily, cheer up," said Alice. "Madam Pomfrey was never going to let you stay with James all night."

Lily glared at the dying fireplace, and sat up straighter in her armchair. "Well, she should have. I don't feel right about leaving him. I know he'll be fine by himself, but still, I should be there."

The Common Room was otherwise empty, and the two girls had been up for quite some time. Seeing Lily's stoic expression, Alice sighed and got to her feet. "You'll see him in the morning. Now, I'm going to bed. I don't suppose you're coming?"

Lily shook her head.

"You're going to fall asleep in your chair by the fireplace?"

Lily nodded.

"Okay, then. Goodnight."

"Night," Lily mumbled.

She continued staring into the fire as Alice's footsteps moved to the staircase. Her thoughts crashed into one another, each fighting to be foremost in her mind, and one of them won the race to be dwelled on.

"Alice?" called Lily, looking away from the fireplace at last.

Alice paused on the bottom of the stairs leading up to the girls' dormitories, and turned back. "Yeah?"

"Did you and James ever have sex?" Lily asked bluntly.

The girl's eyes widened momentarily, and she hesitated. "Look…"

"Just tell me."

Alice stared at her, and for a few seconds Lily thought she wouldn't answer, but then she simply said, "No. We didn't."

Lily surveyed her sternly. "Are you sure?"

"Lily!" Alice looked affronted. "Of course I'm sure! I wouldn't lie to you about it."

Lily relaxed then, and smiled apologetically. "Sorry. My mind's all over the place right now."

"Look," said Alice, looking like she wanted to put an end to this particular topic of conversation between them for good, "I think you should talk to James about this. _Not_ because we did anything, but because he'll be able provide further insight and context that I'm not sure I can give you. At least not in the way you seem to be looking for."

"Right," said Lily. She paused then, and grimaced at her friend. "Sorry for being weird."

Alice smirked, rolled her eyes, and turned again to walk up the stairs. "I dated your _soulmate_, Lily. It would be weird if it wasn't weird."

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Frank frowned at Alice as they walked side by side one evening after classes. "You used that word, though? You called him her soulmate?"

"Yeah," said Alice obviously. "Do you not think they're soulmates?"

"I do, in a way," said Frank, frowning at the ground. "I'm just not sure how much stock I put into the idea of it."

"Of what?"

"Soulmates."

Alice was quiet for a few moments. "Oh," she said eventually.

It was cold out. The grass was dewy. There were no other students on the grounds with them, as with most of the snow gone no one had much incentive to brave the cold weather anymore, especially not for whatever mucky, powdery snow was left.

"What?" said Frank, when he reckoned she'd been quiet for too long.

"Nothing."

"Tell me."

Alice tilted her head. "I believe in soulmates. I think everyone has that one person who, in every way, is perfect for them."

Frank grimaced. "I mean, I get it. It sounds romantic at face value, but I just sort of just see it as depressing."

"Depressing?" Alice repeated confusedly.

"What if you never meet that one person? Or they're with someone else, so you never get a chance?"

"Then they're not your soulmate."

"So you're saying we _have_ to meet our soulmate at some point?"

"What? How'd you get to that?"

"Think about it. If our soulmate, to you, is not someone we'll never meet, that means it is someone we _will_ meet."

"Well, sure, if you use a double negative."

"But that's what you're getting at, isn't it? You're saying everyone meets their soulmate eventually."

"Well," Alice hesitated, "perhaps not everyone. Some people might die early, or simply get unlucky and never meet their soulmate."

"But for the most part?"

"For the most part, everyone has that person who is made just for them. And everyone gets a chance, at some point, to be with that person. It's about making the most of that chance."

Frank wrinkled his nose. "I don't know. I feel like this whole fairy tale idea of soulmates and people who are 'made for us' overshadows our free will to make choices. I don't see that as romantic at all."

Alice looked down. "Maybe not."

"But," he said, seeing her face and stopping to take her hand, leaning close to her, "I'm glad we didn't miss _our_ chance."

Alice bit her lip, seeming like she was trying to fight back a smile. "You're dumb."

Frank grinned. "Maybe. Also we're going to Hogsmeade on Saturday. Valentine's Day and whatnot."

"_Valentine's Day and whatnot_," Alice repeated. "That's how you ask me out for our Valentine's Day date?"

"What did you want me to do, bring in a church choir?"

Alice harrumphed and started walking again. "I want roses, Longbottom."

"Of course."

"And chocolates!"

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Hogsmeade was all dressed up for the occasion. Red ribbons and pink banners littered the streets, and the flood of Hogwarts students on the special day added a most anxious, nervous ambience to the village. Young couples on tentative dates would hold sweaty hands, older couples determined to show how in love they were would traipse about the place most joyously, showing how ostensibly in love they were.

Among the students were four boys on a mission.

"Just tell a teacher, James. This is unnecessary."

"No, Moony. James isn't going to give Dolohov the satisfaction of knowing he ran to a teacher."

"But James was tortured!"

"Dolohov did not torture me."

"Really, James? Then what would you call the re-shattering of your barely healed breastbone?"

"Rough and tumble."

"Peter, help me talk some sense into these two."

"Actually, I kind of like the idea of roughing up some Slytherins on Valentine's Day. While everyone else is frolicking about, we'll be handling our business. What's the word for that? Juxtadition?"

"Juxtaposition."

"Yes, that. Thank you, Remus."

"No problem. I should have figured you'd side with them, anyway. It was two to one, and you sure like to pick your winning battles."

"It's called being clever."

"That's the spirit, Wormtail. Now, Moony, Padfoot, listen up. When we find them, Dolohov is mine. If he thinks I'm some Hufflepuff he can intimidate, he'll have another thing coming. Moony, I know you're still not keen on any of this, but if you come with us then you have to be resolved."

"Yes, yes, I'll help you. I just don't think fighting violence with violence will get us anywhere."

"Oh, save it for the Prefect meetings, Moony. Prongs is calling us to action!"

Near the edge of the village, by a precipice overlooking the Shrieking Shack, a group of Slytherins loitered about, as they were wont to do. Mulciber, Rosier, Wilkes, Avery, Travers, Snape, and Antonin Dolohov. They were laughing about something or other, and when the first, perfectly round snowball hit Travers square in the face, they all froze, frowned, and then whirled around to spot the perpetrator.

"Who's there?" called Rosier, his wand out.

The next snowball hit him on the side of the head, knocking him over.

"Oho," said Mulciber stretching his arms and pulling his wand out. "Whoever you are, you've picked the wrong people to mess with."

Naturally, he was hit by a snowball next. It caught him on the back, and he fell forward onto his face.

"Show yourself," commanded Dolohov.

"With pleasure." Appearing from out of nowhere, James Potter strode forward, face set, eyes alight with violent resolve. His chest was bandaged beneath his layers that protected against the cold, and though he didn't show it, every movement hurt. "Expelliarmus!"

Dolohov's wand flew from his hand, through the air, to James. James didn't even bother catching it. It landed in the snow, and James dropped his own wand beside it.

James wound back and punched Dolhov in the face. It was a glancing blow, and as Dolohov stumbled back, James followed him and punched again. This time, with a direct hit on Dolhov's nose, there was a loud crunch, and blood spurted into the air.

"Not so pleasant, is it?" James asked. Dolohov fell to the ground, clutching his face as James towered over him. Around them, the others fought. Mulciber, Rosier, and Wilkes had already been taken out. They lay in the snow, eyes closed peacefully. Travers and Peter, Avery and Sirius, Snape and Remus all dueled fiercely while James surveyed Dolohov with unfettered distaste. "I should break every bone in your body."

Dolohov laughed from his position on the ground. "I should have seen this coming."

"I'm surprised you didn't."

"I suppose, given how angry you are, you really didn't know that someone cheated for you."

"No one cheated," said James, his frown deepening. "You can't keep using that as an excuse. Your team is just bad."

"Your arrogance is still in one piece, I see. Glad to see at least some part of you is."

"Alright," said James. "Mercy be damned. I'm breaking your arms."

Dolohov laughed again. "You don't have it in you."

"Oh, I really do. Torture has that effect on people."

James took a hold of Dolohov's arm with one hand, placed his other against Dolohov's elbow.

"No, don't!" Dolohov scrambled on the ground, tried to pull James off with his free hand.

James adjusted his grip, his expression grim, and then paused, looked at Dolohov's arm, and wrenched-

"Alright. I've seen enough."

James froze, his friends and the Slytherins all froze, and they looked around.

Behind them was Professor Windstrum, flanked by three men James didn't recognize.

"You are all to return to the castle immediately. We will not have students brawling in the bloody village. I'll escort you all personally, just in case you can't go the whole walk without taking a swing at one another."

Slowly, James stepped back from Dolohov. His friends put their wands away, and the Slytherins nudged Mulciber, Rosier, and Wilkes awake.

"I really do forget that I teach children sometimes," Windstrum told his three companions dryly.

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"Has anyone seen Potter in Hogsmeade yet?" asked Lily.

Frank shrugged. "I saw them leaving the castle, but not since."

"I'm sure he's around," said Alice.

"Oh, undoubtedly," commented Marlene with a smirk. "On Valentine's Day? He'd never miss this opportunity, Lily. He'll be round here with some embarrassing way to ask you out in no time."

Lily almost found herself hoping he would do just that. She didn't voice this, though. She simply looked out the window of The Three Broomsticks and sipped her butterbeer wordlessly.

"He was in a right state when he was released from the Hospital Wing the other day," said Marlene. "Did any of you see him?"  
Lily had. She'd been there when he first stepped into the Common Room on Monday night, and she'd taken in his appearance with wide eyes. He had been quite quiet, and when she asked why, he attributed it to his medication making him drowsy. In the week since then, he hadn't been around very much. Remus said he was in their dormitory a lot, snoozing.

"Yeah," said Frank. "Being pushed off your broomstick will do that to you."

"I bet he's seething," said Alice. "He'll be sulking and stewing on this so badly right now."

"James is a great sulker," Frank admitted. "And he won't let this one go any time soon."

"Maybe that's where he is," Marlene joked. "Off getting revenge on Dolohov."

They all snorted.

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Windstrum's office was nice. James sat in an armchair, and Windstrum surveyed him with his steepled fingers resting on a polished mahogany desk. Around them was a bookcase filled with books showing gleaming covers, a fishtank of crystal clear water inhabited by tropical fish, and various knick knacks and memorabilia from Windstrum's many travels around the world nestled in every nook. The hydra tooth in the corner of the room was particularly impressive to James.

"I'm disappointed in you," said Windstrum finally. "I am."

James raised an eyebrow.

"Not necessarily because you got into a fight - you're a student, these things happen, I know. I'm disappointed by the way you handled it."

"Professor," said James, "how long were you watching us?"

"Long enough to see you try to further injure Dolohov after he was beaten. Now, I'm sure you hold a grudge after that Quidditch match last week but James, come on. Breaking his arm?"

James' eyes narrowed. "I almost broke my _spine_ after he pushed me off my broom."

"So, tit for tat," said Windstrum. "Is that it?"

"I suppose so."

Windstrum gestured widely. "Hence my disappointment. James, remember what side you're on. Remember what you're fighting against. If you're going to match your opponent for every stroke, you'll have to start using killing curses and the unforgivables just to keep up. Because that's what they do."

James knew he was in the wrong, of course. He had known it the moment he told Sirius that they would spent Valentine's Day hunting Dolohov down for revenge. Regardless, put in the same situation, he would do the same thing. He regretted it not one bit. He had been working on tempering his pride this past year, but there were some things that James would simply refuse to tolerate.

"I suppose I am biased by my own experience," said Windstrum. "I can't stand the infliction of pain unto others, no matter what. Three years ago I visited a village in the alps. Muggles were being terrorized by a chimera, as white as snow, that would sneak up on the village at nightfall and lay waste to them all. Two other villages had already been completely destroyed before I arrived."

"And this chimera gave you a fear of seeing anyone get hurt?"

"No. It was the people."

James frowned. "What?"

"I slayed the chimera with two friends I had met in Germany. They were talented wizards, and good men. When the Muggles saw our magic, despite it having saved their village, they were terrified. The night before we were to leave, while the three of us slept, they took our wands and locked us up."

James stared.

"I later found out that we were locked up for weeks, but I spent most of that time in a daze. They were superstitious people, you see, and we were the scariest thing they had ever seen - more so than the chimera. They poked and prodded and whipped, starved and drowned. One of us, Stermun his name was, used wandless magic quite unintentionally while they dunked his head in a bucket of water. A simple bubble-head charm. They killed him for that. My other friend died soon after - starvation."

"Merlin," James muttered.

Windstrum shook his head quickly. "Anyway. My point is that hurting others will get you nowhere. There never needs to be more pain put out there, James. Be compassionate. Be merciful."

Slowly, James nodded. Perhaps he did regret his actions now, if only a little. "Did you meet those three men from earlier during your travels as well?"

Windstrum brightened. "Yes, I did. Their names are Danylo, Artem, and Maksym. I met them in Ukraine a few years back, and they've always been sympathetic to our cause. I reached out to them for help as our numbers are spread very, very thin right now, and though we were still hashing out the details in Hogsmeade before you all got in the way, I'm thinking they're keen."

"Good," James said. "Because Dumbledore's looking for more people to join the cause, right?"

Windstrum looked at James knowingly. "Yes, he is."

"Well, if he's short on people, then I-"

"You're too young, James."

"But-"

"You're dismissed." Windstrum gestured to his door. "Please go spend your Valentine's Day like a normal teenager."

After a moment more of deciding whether or not he should push his luck, James stood and walked to the door. Before he left, he looked back at Windstrum quizzically.

"Professor, when you were in that village with the Muggles, and, er, you were locked up… how did you escape?"

Windstrum thought for a moment, then smirked, winked, and said, "Magic."

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_Dear Lily,_

_We hope you are studying hard. Your lack of letters certainly indicates so, but that could also be attributed to other, less academic things. We _hope_ that it is because you are studying hard._

_Our holiday cruise starts next week, and as we've told you, we will still be away during your Easter break. Therefore, you had better keep in touch much more regularly than you currently do (which is very little, if we're being completely honest)._

_Just in case the point hasn't hit home yet, we are reprimanding you for not writing more, and demanding that you send us a letter immediately. We are very needy._

_Also how is James? Your father didn't think I should ask, but he's rarely right about anything so I ignored him. Are you and James together yet? I would normally know this, you see, except you haven't written to us at all, so how could I?_

_Petunia is well. Vernon is, well, Vernon. How are you, Lily? We wouldn't know, because you haven't written. Has it sunk in yet?_

_Sincerely, and expectantly,_

_Mum_

Lily rolled her eyes and smiled to herself at how amusing and passive aggressive her mother could be. The Common Room was quiet, as most others were still enjoying their afternoon in the village. Lily sat by the window, having walked back up with her friends an hour or so ago.

She took a roll of parchment out of her bag and started writing a response. She didn't notice James walk into the Common Room, but looked up when he slumped into the seat opposite her and smiled warmly. "Happy Valentine's day, Evans."

Lily raised an eyebrow. "A tad late in the day for that, isn't it, Potter?"

"Perhaps, but I've had urgent business to attend to all day. You're the first person I've wished! Do you feel special?"

"How could I not, when I'm around you?" Lily responded dryly.

James laughed. "A fantastic point, Evans. So, did you lot get up to much in Hogsmeade?"

"Not really. Pretty much the average Hogsmeade visit. Stopped by Honeydukes, shook my fist at students entering Zonko's, lounged about in The Three Broomsticks." Lily looked away from him and casually added, "Would have liked to see you there."

"Yeah," said James. "Unfortunate that we missed our chance."

Lily looked back at him. Missed their chance for what? What did he mean? Well, she knew exactly what he probably meant. Their chance for a… well, a _date_. But Lily allowed herself to search for a million other things that James could have been implying instead, just to torture herself.

James caught her eye and winked. "Next time."

Oh, that was much more difficult to find alternative interpretations for. He had a 'next time' in mind. He would soon ask her out once more. Lily bit her lip. "I guess we'll see."

"Hi, James." Rose Fawcett, the red-headed girl with whom, according to Alice, James Potter had lost his virginity, approached Lily and James' spot by the window. She smiled at James. "Happy Valentine's Day."

"Rose," greeted James, looking surprised. "Same to you. Er, how did you get into our Common Room?"

"Oh, I came with a friend," said Rose. She looked at Lily then, and faltered. "Oh, you're a Prefect, right? I'm not in trouble, am I?"

Lily wanted to open the window and shove dear Rose right through it. Never before had she detested someone so quickly upon meeting them, and with so little justification. It was most unlike Lily and she knew it, but she struggled to care.

"No," said Lily, folding her mum's letter and tucking it away, then standing. "I was just about to head off, anyway."

"Oh, really?" said James, looking disappointed.

"Yeah. I'm meeting, er, Marlene."

"Well, I have detention tonight. You should come visit."

Lily wanted to beam, not only at his words but at the look on Rose's face. "Maybe I will." She started walking. "Happy Valentine's Day, Potter."

"Happy Valentine's Day, Evans."

She left the Common Room and walked to the library. Rose Fawcett. Seventh Year. Slytherin. James, of all people, and with all the girls he had to choose from, had lost his virginity to a Slytherin girl. Now of course Lily held no grudge towards Slytherin. In fact, she discouraged any inter-house animosity at all - her best friend until this year was a Slytherin, after all! But despite herself, she couldn't help but wish James had stuck with his prejudice and stayed far, far away from Rose bleeding Fawcett.

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Tree. Bush. Root.

Panting, panting, galloping after his quarry.

Bush. Bush. Tree.

Slivers of light poking between the trees. Moonlight.

A bark, a squeak from the rat clinging onto his fur. A howl from up ahead.

A clearing.

James stopped galloping as he emerged into the clearing, a wide open space between all the trees and bushes, where the light from the full moon beamed down to scorch the roots and grass and dirt with illumination.

The werewolf was at the far end of the clearing, and had stopped. It stared up at the moon, not even panting.

James, on the other hand, was panting heavily as he relaxed his muscles, the chase over. Beside him, Sirius burst from the trees and skidded to a stop when he saw the werewolf. He prowled closer to James, and then sat on his haunches. He, too, was panting heavily. Peter, having clung onto James perilously for most of the night, scaled down his frame now and scurried along the ground and among the roots, though being careful not to get too close to the werewolf.

They all watched as the werewolf layed down and curled up. It would happen, every once in a while, and they were all thankful when it did. The werewolf would spend much of the night simply sleeping, or it would feel lazy and keep to itself. On these nights, Sirius and James wouldn't have to fear any injuries, and could simply enjoy being out of the castle, and on the following mornings Remus would be well rested rather than haggard, gaunt, and lethargic.

The werewolf closed its eyes. After a couple of minutes, James knew it was asleep.

Stretching, squeezing, the most peculiar sensation of transformation, and James was human. Beside him, Sirius transformed too.

"Nice night for it," James said. He sat down by a tree facing the werewolf and rested his back against it, keeping a watchful eye on the rising and falling chest of the beast. The clearing was large, and the werewolf all the way on the other side of it, but James was far too experienced at this game to let his guard down, ever.

Sirius dropped down beside him and stretched his legs out. "A really great night for it, I reckon. How long do you think he'll be out for?"

"Ideally? All night."

Sirius snorted. "Dreams are free."

"Yeah. We probably have half an hour, realistically. And that's at best."

"I agree. He's barely broken a sweat tonight."

"Werewolves can't sweat," James said automatically, remembering the research he and Sirius had done back in Second Year. "Remember?"

Sirius laughed. "Ah, that's right."

They were quiet, then. A comfortable silence. James treasured the friends with whom he could have these moments, as they were few and far between. The understanding that they didn't always have to be talking. Presence, while thinking of other things, was sometimes more than enough.

Lily had indeed visited him in detention on Valentine's Day. That had been fun. They'd talked plenty more since, but generally just between classes. The strangeness of being in a castle with someone for many months on end was that there would be plenty of run-ins and short bursts of conversation, but very few would be meaningful. He wondered why that was.

He supposed it was up to him to make them meaningful - the castle could only do so much. But that would mean he'd have to take that extra step, the step that he'd been avoiding all year.

Since the beginning of their Sixth Year, things had undeniably changed between him and Lily. Things had changed unthinkably quickly. He had scarcely believed what was happening when they had surprisingly become friends, and then on New Year's Eve, as unexpectedly and suddenly as the universe had exploded into existence, the two had kissed. They had kissed, and James still couldn't comprehend how he had come to that point. Then they came back to Hogwarts and kissed again, and then again. If even a slightly younger James could look in at what his life had become, he surely would faint, and insist on being taken to St Mungo's. James was now in a position where he was courting Lily Evans - properly courting her!

And that step, that extra, dreaded step, was to ask her out.

_I'd sooner date the giant squid_, and _you're an arrogant toerag_, many words and declarations of crushing, wounding rejection rang through James' mind, pounded on his temples, drumming into him that he would be foolish, ridiculously foolish, to ask her out. He shouldn't get ahead of himself, for every time he did, things came crashing down around his head.

When was the right time? When would his chance come? Or had it already passed?

The werewolf snorted and lifted its head.

"Peter, get back," Sirius shouted, jumping to his feet.

James scrambled up. Within moments, Sirius was a dog, and he a stag. Together they charged at the werewolf, antlers and barred teeth at the ready. Business as usual.

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"About two weeks ago," called out Patsy, the head chef in her shrill voice, "a teacher is telling Patsy off for letting a student try out the breakfast some minutes before breakfast. But Patsy didn't do any such thing!"

Slinky hung back behind some of the other House-elves. As was often the case, though, his big, pointy ears, even by House-elf standards, gave him away.

"Slinky! Patsy knows it was you!" Patsy pointed a spatula right at him. The other House-elves cleared away from him like clockwork, and Slinky looked around quickly, and then back at Patsy with a guilty expression. "Patsy saw you talking with the student!"

Slinky stood straighter, holding his chin up as high as it could go. This put the weight of his big head further back than where he stood, and he lost his balance and fell flat onto his back. He jumped right up again and stood even straighter than before. "It is Slinky's job to answer to every student and teacher! A student came here and Slinky followed her every order, like a good House-elf!"

The others all looked between Patsy and Slinky with their mouths wide open at the spectacle. Patsy's brows furrowed thunderously. "Well, Professor McGonagall is speaking with me today reminding me what we can and cannot allow students to do in the kitchens! They may eat and give us orders for food, but we must not let them eat a feast before the feast is being served! Is this clear, Slinky?"

Slinky hung his head. This put most of his weight before him, and he almost fell over again. "Yes, Patsy."

Patsy's nostrils flared. "Good."

The spectacle over, the other House-elves all set about getting back to work. "Typical Slinky," one of them muttered.

Slinky hung his head some more, and this time he did fall over.

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"This is our last apparition lesson," the Ministry official announced, holding his hands up. The chatter in the Great Hall died off. "Anyone who needs further lessons, or simply supervised practice, can pay for private sessions between now and your apparition test in two weeks. Other than that, good luck, and remember: Destination, Determination, and-"

"Deliberation," the students all droned, turning as they said it to the back of the Great Hall where, as was always the case, the official had apparated. He clearly thought it still impressed them. It barely had the first time he did it, and that was months ago.

They started filing out of the Great Hall, and the chatter picked back up. As the official was standing right in the way, he was swept up in the sea of Sixth Years, protesting and stammering all the way into the Entrance Hall.

"I can't wait for the apparition test," Marlene declared. "I'm going to absolutely crush it!"

Lily observed her amused. "You're always so bubbly these days. What's gotten into you?"

"Life, Lily. I've grown to realize just how blessed we all are by simply _being _here."

Marlene started skipping beside her, then. Really skipping. It was especially impressive when she kept it up as they began their ascent of the Entrance Hall's stairs.

Lily shook her head at her friend's antics, and took a second look at the letter in her hands.

_Lily_

_Mother was constantly nagging me before she and Dad left for their cruise to write to you more often. Or at all. Hence this letter. Don't get used to it._

_How are you? I am well. I presume you're well also._

_Vernon and I have set a date for our wedding. It will be some time around the Christmas season, either December or January. Naturally, you're invited. Don't expect to be my maid of honor, though. Writing you a letter in the first place is charity enough._

_Petunia_

Lily wrinkled her nose at the letter, and nodded absent-mindedly at something Marlene was saying about how beautiful the sky looked through the window. She shouldn't have expected more from Petunia, she supposed. This much was more than she had expected in the first place.

That being the case, Lily counted herself lucky to have gotten the letter at all.

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"No," said James in answer to the Fifth Year girl's question. "Non-verbal spells are not required for Exceeds Expectations or even Outstanding at O.W.L level. It will go a long way towards impressing your examiner, though. Most Sixth Years can't even get the hang of it." The girl nodded, and went back to packing her stuff away. James looked at the rest of the Fifth Years. "Any other questions? No? Alright, that's all for today, then. We'll meet again next week. You don't have long before exams now, so really make these next few weeks count."

The students nodded and filed out of the classroom, each thanking him before they left.

"They're getting good," James said to Sirius, who sat atop the teacher's desk. "Almost as good as we were last year."

Sirius hopped off the desk. "Almost."

The two left the classroom and set off for the Great Hall, hoping to be in time for lunch.

"At any rate, they're better than Peter was," James added. "He could barely transfigure a matchbox last year, bless his soul. It's a wonder how he manages to be an Animagus."

"It's not really a wonder though, is it?" said Sirius. "With mates like us, anything's possible."

"Yes, you're quite right," said James. Then, "Do you reckon he'll pass the apparition test?"

Sirius hesitated. "We should probably help him out."

"We really should."

"In fact, it wouldn't hurt for _him _to sit in for one of your tutoring sessions. I suspect he still barely knows most of what you're covering."

"And barely might be generous," said James, grimacing. "I've sat down with him so many times, and he never seems to get it."

"I know what you mean. Trying to help him keep up with Remus and ourselves can be frustrating to say the least. There are times he surprises us though," said Sirius. "Every now and then he pulls a trick from out his arse. I'll give him that much credit."

"That's true. He can be full of surprises."

They neared the Entrance Hall, where the raucous chatter emanating from the Great Hall flowed out in waves.

"I will make sure he can apparate, though," Sirius said. "I'll take him out to the village. We can't have a Marauder without his license, where the hell is he supposed to maraud?"

"Good idea," said James. "Quite generous of you, too. I'm surprised."

"Oh, I'm full of generosity these days, Prongs."

"Is that right?"

"Quite."

"And what exactly is bringing about all this generosity, my dear Mr Padfoot?"

"Hm," said Sirius. "Life. Life and its many blessings have brought out the best in me, Prongs, old boy."

"Well, tell life that I-"

"Hi, James."

James looked around in annoyance and saw Rose Fawcett. "Oh. Hey, Rose."

"Hey," she said, smiling brightly and brushing her hair away from her face. "It's your birthday next week, right?"

"Yep. On Friday."

"Cool. So, are you throwing a party? You usually do, right?"

"Well," butted in Sirius, "first you'd have to actually be invited."

James elbowed him in the side and gave a look that he hoped said 'play nice'.

Rose took it in stride though, and widened her smile at James. "I'm sure that won't be a problem. I'm looking forward to it!"

Before Sirius could fling another barbed comment at her, she turned with a flick of her hair and walked back to the Slytherin table.

"I never liked her," said Sirius. "Just so you know."

"Really?" said James. "I could never have guessed."

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Naturally, James' birthday party was all Lily heard about in the days leading up to the event.

Sirius had treated the party like something exclusive that only those in James' inner circle would even know about, and seeing as Lily was inexplicably a part of that circle now, she had long since been in the loop. As was always the case though, and as Lily suspected Sirius had anticipated, word got out and spread like wildfire. James Potter's birthday party could never be some quiet event, and due to Sirius 'making sure' no one knew about it, _everyone_ knew about it.

"That's what they want though, isn't it? James and Sirius, I mean," said Alice, sitting beside Lily on her bed and watching Marlene apply eyeliner with painstaking precision. "Everyone to be talking about them for days on end."

"Oh, I have no doubt," said Lily with a snort.

Both her and Alice were already dressed. Some girls were apparently wearing dresses to the party, which was laughable to Lily. She wore jeans, boots, and a nice white cardigan she'd bought during the Christmas break. Alice and Marlene were dressed similarly, though Marlene was insistent on applying more makeup.

"Just to make all the other girls feel ugly," she had said.

Their other two dormmates, Harriet and Nancy, who had their own group of friends outside of Gryffindor, had already left for the party. Marlene reckoned it was good to be relatively late.

"Make them all wait. Never give the people what they want," she had said.

When finally Marlene was ready, the three of them set off for the boathouse storing the boats used by First Years to reach the castle each year. It was an underground harbour of sorts that Lily hadn't revisited since her own First Year, and she had to admit, it was the perfect location for a party. They took the stairs from the courtyard by the Entrance Hall, and were joined as they went by various others dressed up for the occasion. When they stepped from marble stairs onto rocks and pebbles, heard the blasting music that had been muted to them moments before, and saw the crowd of exhilarated students dancing, chatting, and singing along, Lily knew they had reached.

An orb of light hung in the air above them all, pulsing and flashing every color of the rainbow. Sirius had been very excited when telling Lily about that one. The boathouse itself was further on, wooden and drab, and it surprised Lily not one bit that the students had instead chosen to party surrounded by cave walls, standing on rocks, and not being able to see very much at all, even with the illumination from Sirius' orb of light. A heating charm had also been cast, which Lily had talked Sirius through the finer points of, as they would otherwise have been freezing from the chill of the night coupled with their being underground.

"You made it!" Sirius approached them, beaming. He had a Dragon Barrel Brandy in hand, and his face was very red. "Hey everyone," he yelled. No one heard him. "Look who's here!"

"Hey, Sirius," greeted Alice. "Where's Frank?"

"He's right there." Sirius pointed vaguely at the crowd of students dancing.

"Right," said Alice. "Thanks."

She set off, presumably to look for him, and Sirius turned to Marlene and gave a formal nod of his head. "McKinnon."

"Black," she said tonelessly, before turning away and striding off, being quickly lost in the throng of students.

Lily looked at Sirius with a wry smile. "Your effect on women is undeniable, Black."

Sirius didn't seem to have heard her, and looked at her seriously. "Hey, we get along right?"

"Oh. Er, well… " Lily knew she needn't bother giving a serious answer, but she wanted to, and found that at this point, given all the unprecedented circumstances, she may as well fall from grace completely. She could get along with Sirius Black. "Yes. Yes we do."

"Good," said Sirius, looking relieved. "I want us to get along." He leaned in and whispered, "It's important to James, you see."

"What's important to me?"

Beside Lily stood James, and as always her heartbeat instantly quickened at the sight of him.

"James," exclaimed Sirius. "Fancy seeing you here!"

"Go drink some water, Padfoot."

"If that is what is what the birthday boy wishes, then by golly that's what he'll get!"

Sirius stormed off, a man on a mission, and Lily looked at James with a warm smile. "Happy birthday, Potter."

"Thank you," he said, returning her smile. "What did you get me?"

She bit her lip. "Close your eyes."

He didn't hesitate in closing them, giving Lily a few welcomed drops of courage. She leaned in, stood on her tip-toes, and gently kissed him on the cheek. She stepped back and he opened his eyes, lifted his fingers to his cheek.

"Thanks," he said, sounding a little breathless.

"Play your cards right, Potter," said Lily, feeling more and more emboldened, "and the next one will be much more _involved_ than that-"

"Happy birthday, James!"

Rose Fawcett bounded up to him, wearing a gorgeous black dress that stopped short of her thighs, accompanied by heels with fancy straps, and she hugged him tight.

"Er, thanks," said James, looking uncomfortable.

Lily rubbed her neck and wrinkled her nose at the stones and rocks beneath her.

Rose stepped back from James, barely, with her hands still on his arms. "Do you want to know what I got you?"

"Erm…"

"Because I've already given it to you!"

He hesitated. "Was it the hug?"

"No, silly," she said, laughing and waving a hand. "It was the game."

"The… game?"

"The Quidditch game! Against Slytherin!"

Lily matched James' bewildered expression as he stared at the girl.

Rose rolled her eyes like James was being funny. "I spiked the Slytherin Quidditch team's breakfast with a confounding solution. Because of me, their reflexes were all slow during the game, so you could beat them!"

James' bewilderment slowly seemed to fade, and he looked at her with an empty expression.

"It wasn't very hard to do. I only had to go to the kitchens, and the House-elves were all too happy to help me. You showed me where to find the kitchens, remember? Last year?" Rose beamed at him. "I'll never forget that night."

"Because of you," James repeated quietly, "I beat them."

"Yep," said Rose, nodding happily.

"And you think this is a good thing?"

Rose tilted her head. "It… is, isn't it? I sabotaged my own _house_ for you."

"You cheated," James spat.

"Yes," Rose said obviously. "And? James, are you upset by this? I did you a favor."

James gave a choked laugh. "Well, promise me something, Rose. Never do me a favor again."

"What?" Rose looked properly annoyed now. "You're mad because I cheated for you? Look, it even doesn't matter. It's just a game!"

Lily's eyes widened, and James' eyes bugged out of his head. "Just a- Just a game?"

Turning slowly, Lily edged away from the two. Spotting a boy with light brown hair not far from her, she moved away from them faster.

"Do you know me at all?" she heard James demanding from behind her. "I mean, _at all_, Fawcett?"

"Remus," Lily called.

The boy looked over, and smiled as she approached. "Lily. How are you?"

"Grand," she said, feeling relieved to be standing with him now. They were by the edge of the water, where it lapped at the rocks gently. "You?"

"Oh, I'm alright." He looked over to where the rest of the crowd gathered. There was a drinks table, a snacks table, blankets, couches, a disco ball lying on the ground, and the horde of rowdy teenagers amongst all of it, yelling and laughing with each other.

Lily only then realized how far away from the actual party the two of them were. She looked at Remus quizzically. "Not much of a party-goer?"

"Unfortunately not," he said with a small smile. "I know I come across as a huge wet blanket, but these sorts of things really aren't my idea of fun. Whenever I'm around this sort of atmosphere, I always find myself thinking about how much I'd rather be in my bed, snoozing, or reading a book or something. Even _studying_, as pathetic as that might sound."

"No, I get it. Believe me," said Lily. She looked back to where Rose and James were still talking heatedly. "People are exhausting."

Remus snorted. "I could not agree with you more."

From behind them they heard coughing. They turned to see Sirius, who had been even further from the party than themselves. "I just spewed," he said haggardly, "my entire guts up." He stumbled closer to them, breathing slowly.

"He's not usually this bad at holding his liquor," Remus told Lily. "It's because he started drinking mid-afternoon."

"More like mid-morning," said Sirius. He made a distasteful face, and turned to the water and spat something out.

"Gross," said Lily, grimacing.

"Padfoot, pull yourself together," said Remus. "You've got a party to host."

"Bugger this party," Sirius muttered, squatting down. "Bugger it all."

"Indeed," called James. They turned and watched him approach. Rose was nowhere to be seen. "This party is dumb. Sorry, Padfoot."

"Nope," said Sirius in a strained voice. "Agree wholeheartedly."

"What are we all gathering for?" came Frank's voice. He approached with Alice by his side, and both looked just as sober as this group felt. "What's happening?"

"I believe," said Remus, "that we're just about to leave."

"Marlene, Lily, and I just got here," said Alice, then looked around and wrinkled her nose, "but..."

"We should go," Frank agreed. "Sirius, your party is pretty average."

"I know," muttered Sirius. He heaved on the rocks, and they all groaned.

"Come on, let's get out of here," said Frank, looking disgusted. "I know a good spot."

"Brilliant," said James. "Someone fetch Marlene and Peter, quick. We're taking a shortcut to the second floor."

"I guess I'll do it," said Sirius, looking somehow even more disgruntled than before. "Hold on."

The group followed James to a section of the wall that folded away to a hidden staircase, and when Sirius returned with Marlene and Peter, and with neither Sirius or Marlene looking at or acknowledging the other, they all finally set off. Somehow, the group was all on the same page about the party. Marlene was especially vocal in voicing her disapproval.

When they reached the castle, Frank took the lead. Lily saw James hang back, and she matched his pace. The two reached the back end of the group, and followed along a few steps behind the others.

"So," Lily said, her curiosity finally becoming too much for her to fight off, "Rose Fawcett. What in the world happened there?"

James snorted. "A complete disaster, that's what."

"Alice told me you had sex," Lily blurted. James' head whipped to her, and she kept talking. "You and Rose, I mean. She told me you, er, lost your virginity to Rose."

James grimaced. "Brilliant."

"Tell me, Potter," Lily said, when it was clear he wasn't going to add to that.

"Tell you what?"

"The full story. Because clearly there are a lot of things that led up to you and Rose… doing _anything_ together."

A sigh. "Well, you have a point there."

Lily didn't bother saying she knew that already. She waited for him to continue.

"It was last year," he began. "After one of your particularly stinging rejections, followed by one of our more memorable fights. You slapped me." Lily grinned at the memory, and James chuckled. "I look back on it fondly. But not so much on what happened afterwards. I was hurt, insecure, and, to be honest, lonely. Rose was a pretty redhead who, that same night, showed a hell of a lot of interest in me. I took her down to the kitchens, told a few jokes, and she loved it. Made me feel like I have a lot to offer a girl, which was something I guess I craved at that moment. I know saying 'one thing led to another' isn't saying much, but that's really what happened. We found an empty classroom. We fucked."

Lily smacked his arm. "James!"

"That's exactly what it was, Evans. Not an act of love. Barely an act of sex. I'll be honest, it was quite short."

Lily was beginning to regret having any role in making this conversation happen at all. She knew her face had to be as red as his Quidditch robes.

"Afterwards, we did it again. It was no more satisfying. We then tried chatting through the night and I found that we have zero chemistry, whatsoever. I sneaked back to Gryffindor tower before everyone woke up that morning, and she left for the Slytherin dorms. Every time I saw her thereafter, she would always act quite personal, because we have, as she likes to say, a _history_."

"A redhead named after a flower," said Lily in a teasing voice. "You certainly have a type."

"Oh, shut it," he said, shaking his head but smiling. "Anyway, she's the only girl I've had sex with."

"Not-" Lily cleared her throat. "Not even Alice?"

James rolled his eyes. "Don't act like she hasn't already told you."

"I want you to tell me."

"No, I did not sleep with your best friend, Evans. We talked about it, though. Considered it. In all honesty, Alice and I were surprisingly compatible."

Lily bit her lip, not knowing how to feel about that.

"But we didn't love each other. And Alice wanted her first to be with the boy she loves - Frank. I felt the same way, only I lost my chance for a meaningful first time."

Lily was quiet at that, searching for the right words. "Oh," she said eventually.

"We're here." Frank stopped in front of a portrait of a lady with a harp and looked at them all impressively.

James, Remus, and Sirius all made noises of understanding. Peter looked at them quickly and then made his own, unconvincing noise of understanding.

"Welcome," said Frank, nodding to the portrait, who nodded back, before swinging the portrait out to reveal a room on the other side, "to the Head Students' Office."

"Woah," said Lily, Alice, Marlene, and Frank.

They all clambered in, and Frank closed the door behind them. It was about the size of a teacher's office, large enough to accomodate them all comfortably but still small in its own way, and cozy.

"Good shout, Longbottom," said Sirius, dropping down to the ground comfortably. "Always wanted to come here."

"You knew about this office?" Frank asked him.

"Only by name," said Sirius, smirking.

"How very impressive, Black," said Marlene, rolling her eyes as she sat down too.

"Don't start," James warned. "It's my birthday."

"Happy birthday, James," the group chorused instantly.

"Yes, thank you-"

"Happy birthday to you," Sirius yelled.

"No."

"Happy birthday to you," Frank picked up.

"Oh, here we go."

"Happy birthday, dear James," the rest of them rejoined, grinning at his resigned expression. "Happy birthday to you!"

"Thank you," he said. "Now-"

"Hip hip," shouted Sirius.

"Hooray!"

"Okay."

"Hip hip."

"Hooray!"

"Are we done?"

"Hip hip."

"Guess not."

"Hooray!"

"Oh, bugger you all," said James finally, dropping down to the floor with a laugh. Lily sat against the wall opposite him, and Frank, Alice, Remus, and Peter promptly joined them.

"You know, Sirius," said Remus, "when you said the party was going to be exclusive in its guest list, I really thought it was just going to be like this. This is nice."

"We've already established the party was rubbish," said Sirius exasperatedly. "Can we move on?"

"There wasn't even any cake," James mumbled.

"What?" exclaimed Marlene. "Black, you didn't bring _cake_ to a _birthday_ _party_?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, McKinnon," Sirius snapped back. "I forgot that the most important things to bring to a party are drinks, music, and _cake_!"

"Will you two shut it?" said Frank. "You're like James and Lily were back in the day. Worse, in fact."

"Oh," said Remus gravely, "I don't know about that."

"Well," James said, offering Lily yet another smile that made her heart beat faster, "we've come a long way. Haven't we?"

A part of her, however small, had thought this might be the night she finally bit the bullet - finally got with James. Of course Rose ended up getting in the way, but it was fine. They had time, and they would have plenty more chances.

"We have indeed, Potter."

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It had been a while since Caradoc had last visited this place. A maze, under the ground, of criss-crossing corridors and darkness. The headquarters of the Death Eaters. He hated coming here, never felt safe. They all thought he was a Death Eater, welcomed him, but at any moment something might go wrong. As he'd recently come to learn, happenstance had a habit of inconveniencing him.

"You were a spy this whole time!"

Caradoc rolled his eyes at the Death Eater bound to the chair in the middle of the dark room. "Yes, Mr Gibbon. I was a spy the whole time."

"You- You won't get away with this!"

"The way my luck's been going, you're probably right. But in any case, I've got a job to do." Caradoc hunkered down in front of the man until he was at eye level. "Emmett Fawley. What's he got planned?"

Gibbon frowned. "The… Minister of Magic?"

"He's not the Minister," said Caradoc forcefully. "Not yet, anyway. It's just between him and Sawyer Hughes now, and if everything goes right, Sawyer will get the job. But that's not why I'm here. I know Fawley is on your side."

Gibbon's eyes widened, and he looked scandalized. "Wait, he is?"

Caradoc sighed and massaged his temples. "Alright, clearly you're of no use. So what about _Blithe_?"

Now Gibbon's eyes widened not from scandal. Something else. Fear, perhaps. "How do you know that name?"

"I'm a Death Eater, aren't I?"

"Even so, only a select few of us have ever heard of him."

Caradoc looked at him doubtfully. "And you're one of those select few?"

"No," Gibbon admitted. "But I've heard of him, still. From someone outside the Ministry."

Now Caradoc's interest was piqued. A lead on Blithe, _any_ lead on Blithe, was all he'd searched for over the past few months. "Who?"

Gibbon looked smug. "I won't tell-"

Caradoc closed his eyes and placed a hand on Gibbon's head. Though Legilimency was not his strongest skill, he was still good enough to draw on the thoughts of the likes of Gibbon.

"Phillip Kelsey, Department of Magical Artifacts," Caradoc recited. He opened his eyes. "Thank you, Gibbon. You've been a great help. _Obliviate_."

Gibbon's eyes unfocussed, and Caradoc untied him from the chair before leaving the room.

At last, he had a lead.

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Taureau Barkley watched from afar as the ground rumbled, slid open, and Caradoc Dearborn emerged. He'd been keeping tabs on the man for some weeks now. Caradoc Dearborn had bested him in a fight, and had promptly tampered with his memory. As a trained killer, such things simply did not sit right with Taureau Barkley.

He watched Dearborn walk, carefree, not knowing how easy it would be, how simple, for a killing curse to hit him from behind. Just like that, he would be dead.

There had been many chances. For a man who projected a constant readiness to fight, Dearborn had presented so, so many opportunities for Taureau Barkley to snuff him out with one flick of his wand. The only struggle for him was choosing which opportunity to take. He wasn't normally one to play with his food, but he wanted this kill to be as satisfying as possible. Losing that fight _really_ didn't sit right with him.

Dearborn kept walking.

Was it now? Was now the moment where Taureau Barkley should strike? Or should he wait? Let Dearborn live another day?

Taureau raised his wand, his mind close to made up-

With a _crack_, Dearborn disapparated.

He lowered his wand.

"Not yet, then. But soon."

He would find Dearborn again. It was never particularly difficult for someone with his skills.

With a sigh, and an equally jarring _crack_, he too disapparated.

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"Please, please, please, please," muttered Sirius.

From a distance, Peter raised a hand. A thumbs up.

"Yes!"

They all cheered and ran to him, and James and Sirius lifted him into the air. Passersby on the Hogsmeade street cast them amused glances.

"Congratulations, Peter," said Alice, smiling warmly at him.

"I knew you could do it," Lily told him. "Well done, Peter!"

"Congrats, Pete," cheered Frank with a clap on Peter's back.

"Good work, mate," said Remus, beaming.

When Sirius and James put him down, Peter wound his arms behind his back and smiled at them all bashfully. "Thanks, guys."

"That means we all passed," Marlene announced. "We can all now legally apparate!"

"Travers failed," James pointed out.

"I meant all of _us_."

"Oh, right."

"Three Broomsticks," Frank declared. "What do you guys say?"

"If you're paying," said Alice, nudging him and smirking.

Frank looked at her for a few seconds before smiling widely. "Oh, what the hell? Sure. Butterbeers on me, guys."

The eight of them cheered again, and as one they made their way over to The Three Broomsticks, where a handful of other Sixth Years celebrated their successful apparition test results. The others set about selecting a table, and Lily hung back a bit. She pulled out a folded piece of parchment and gave it another read.

_Lily,_

_Your father and I are about to board the ship, so this is the last letter I'll be able to send you until we get back - in a month! Exciting!_

_Now, remember to feed the cat when you're home for Easter break. Until then, the cat's with Mrs Jones at number Seven. _

_In answer to your previous letter, your father and I were in love long before we started dating. We're simply lucky that he finally got some courage together and asked me out, otherwise we might have missed our chance! Why do you ask? Does this have something to do with James, dear? My goodness, it does, doesn't it?_

_My highest advice to you on the matter, dear Lily, is to trust in your heart. I realize I could not give you more vague and seemingly unhelpful advice, but believe me, that's where you will find the sagest advice in the world. When your heart says it's time, it's time._

_In other news, your father saw a dolphin yesterday. Cool, right?_

_Love you forever and always,_

_Mum_

Lily folded the letter once more and tucked it away, before joining her friends at a table by the window. Sirius was in the middle of a story, and Lily tuned in too late to care so she tuned back out and looked around at the other tables. Professor Flitwick was at a nearby table, and he looked directly at Sirius with a frown. Lily tilted her head in confusion.

"And would you believe it," said Sirius, "he turns around and tells me-"

"Black!"

The others joined Lily in staring at Flitwick, who was marching over to their table with such fury compacted into his short, stout little frame that he was reminiscent of a bowling ball.

"And you too, McKinnon!"

Sirius and Marlene both blinked at him, looking nothing short of bamboozled.

"For months I've been trying to figure out why my classroom is sometimes mysteriously unlocked in the morning. I finally got around to placing a Fabula charm on the room yesterday. Do you know what that does?"

The two shook their heads slowly.

"It recreated for me, in shocking clarity I might add, everything that took place last night, and I imagine _has_ been taking place for the last three months!"

Six heads turned to stare at Sirius and Marlene. Their expressions were identical, equally guilty, and they swallowed thickly.

"Now," Flitwick continued, "it's none of my business what you get up to in your own time. But please, for Merlin's sake, my classroom is a place of learning! Not some bed and breakfast type _jungle_ for your _love-making_!"

With that, and a little swish of his cloak, Flitwick turned on his heel and left.

"Did- Did he just say love-making?" asked Frank.

Marlene and Sirius looked at each other, and then at anything but each other.

"Merlin," said Alice.

James looked like he was trying to hide a smile.

He knew. Lily shook her head to herself. Of course Sirius would have told him. More importantly, Sirius and Marlene… Clearly, they'd decided to seize their chance while it was still hanging around. She looked at James again, while the rest of her friends started growing loud, and demanding answers of the two guilty parties.

She'd come to this conclusion in the back of her mind some time ago, and over the last few weeks she'd grown absolutely certain of it. Where it had been the slightest bit daunting before, by now it was inevitable, perhaps even overdue. Looking at him, Lily knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the time was upon them - their chance was right before their eyes.

The next time James Potter asked her out she would say, with no hesitation and no more need to wait, a definite, resounding _yes_.


	23. Blitz

Mr and Mrs Evans departed early from their holiday cruise. Their youngest daughter would arrive home for Easter break the next day, after all, and they saw her much too infrequently as it was, what with how far away her curious and spectacular school was.

"I can't wait to see her face," said Mr Evans, as they walked with their luggage down the harbor. "I bet she'll scream."

"Our Lily is certainly a screamer," Mrs Evans admitted.

It was bizarre, the way events played out. Cruises could be very, very dangerous affairs, yet disaster chose to strike only once they'd returned home. On a cloudy evening, the couple chose to cut through the wrong little alley, bumped into the wrong young man armed with a knife and desperate for money.

"If you struggle, I'll kill you."

They struggled.

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Lily snorted in between giggles.

"It's really not that funny," Sirius mumbled.

She held a hand up, hunching over a little and struggling to breathe from laughing.

"Really, Lily, I don't see the joke," said Marlene, annoyance written plainly on her face.

Sirius and Marlene, with their loosened ties, unbuttoned shirts, and ruffled hair, looked out at Lily from the broom closet, radiating a mix of indignance, guilt, and awkwardness.

"Ohhh!" Lily was bent all the way over now, clutching at her knees and trying to regain control over her breath. "Ohhhhh!"

"This is too much," Sirius muttered.

Marlene made a disgruntled sound as she eyed Lily. "If you're not going to give us a detention or anything, can you just go? I promise we'll finish up here quickly."

Sirius frowned. "Quickly?"

"Oh," said Lily, standing straight and gaining control immediately, "I'm giving you both detentions, don't worry."

"_What?_"

"You both knew I was patrolling at this hour, yet you chose now to hook up in a broom closet of all places."

"Lily, we're your friends!"

Lily pointed at Marlene. "_You_ are engaged. To a Mr William Ärger, remember?" She pointed at Sirius. "And you _know_ she's engaged. Yet here you both are." She put her hands on her hips and surveyed them disappointedly. "Does the institution of marriage mean nothing to you two?"

Neither of them looked as abashed as Lily wanted them to.

"Lily," said Marlene, "how I choose to butcher my engagement is none of your concern."

Lily rolled her eyes. "That would be the case, if you didn't choose to do it by breaking school rules. I am a Prefect, and therefore this," she gestured to each of them sharply, and then to the broom closet in general, "_is_ my concern. Consider me concerned."

With a flick of her hair, she turned and stalked off down the corridor, not waiting for one of them to ruin her illusion of having put them in their place. Regardless, she still heard Sirius make one more comment before she reached the end of the corridor.

"James really needs to shag the attitude out of her as soon as possible."

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Taureau Barkley cracked into place on an empty street in Birmingham and fired off a killing curse, which Caradoc Dearborn ducked under before breaking into a sprint, not even turning to fire a spell back. After months of waiting for the right moment to kill the man, Taureau Barkley had seized his chance the previous night. Dearborn had darted under the killing curse at the last moment to tie his shoelace. Why Dearborn hadn't simply used a charm for the task, Taureau Barkley couldn't say, but it had saved the man's life.

Over the last day, Dearborn had led him on a merry chase around the country, and Taureau Barkley's bad luck didn't seem to be abating any time soon.

He sprinted after his quarry, fired off another killing curse. The green light chipped a sign post and knocked it over, singing the metal. He sprinted on. Dearborn reached the end of the street and darted left. Taureau Barkley barged into the closest alley, praying that the short-cut would allow him to cut Dearborn off on the next street over. The alley smelled, and was dark, but it all blurred past as he raced through it. It started to curve towards the rough direction of Dearborn's route, and Taureau Barkley smiled-

A dead end.

It was a dead end at the end of the alley, with only a sad building of boarded up doors and cracked windows to greet him. Cursing under his breath, he turned on the spot and _cracked_ into place back at the start of the alley. He walked to the street Dearborn had turned off on. Empty. He kept walking, down to the next street, and the next. The urgency had left his pace completely. By now, he knew, Dearborn would be long gone.

"-much time, so tell me what you know before I take you to the Ministry and throw you in a cell!"

Taureau Barkley paused and turned to the direction of the voice. Dearborn's voice. It came from a building on his right. A window was open, and he sidled up to it and peaked through. Smiled widely. Perhaps good luck had finally found its way to him.

Dearborn stood in a small bedroom, his wand trained on a plump man in checkered pyjamas lying in a narrow bed. The man laughed. "I know who you are. Caradoc Dearborn. You say you'll take me to the Ministry? The way I hear it, you're _wanted_ by the Ministry. They want your head!"

"A lot of people want my head right now," Dearborn muttered.

Taureau Barkley scratched his nose.

"You're in no position," said the man smugly, "to make demands, Mr Deaborn."

"I'm in no position?" Dearborn repeated. He grabbed the man by his silk pyjama shirt, lifted him from his bed, and slammed him against the wall. Pressing his wand to the man's throat, Dearborn leaned close and whispered, "How about this position?"

Though flustered, the man didn't look intimidated. "I know more still about you, Mr Deaborn. You're a Death Eater. You passed on Ministry information to the Dark Lord. Yet you come here asking questions that a Death Eater should have no interest in. Could it be that you are a _double_ double agent? Not for the Dark Lord, but someone else? Albus Dumbledore, perhaps?"

Dearborn's lips thinned.

"Interesting," said the man, eyes gleaming.

"Look," said Dearborn quietly, "you _will_ tell me what I want to know. I've gone through too much trouble, chased too many cold leads, interrogated Phillip Kelsey, Amon Romani, Kriss Tormund, all to get to you. Now _what do you know about Blithe_?"

The man smiled wanly. "As I'm sure you know, Mr Dearborn, I am an information broker. I have ears in many places, and I hear many things. Knowing those things is my trade. I am not partial to either side of this war, although I've heard plenty about each. The man you seek. Blithe. I've never met him, but I have one piece of information for you, in exchange for the one piece of information you've given me."

Dearborn frowned. "I've given you nothing."

"Caradoc Dearborn, the wanted fugitive," said the man, "is not, in fact, a Death Eater. That is a very valuable piece of information."

Dearborn was quiet for a few seconds. Eventually, he said, "Right." Then, "So tell me what I want to know."

"My one piece of information for you, Mr Dearborn, is quite curious, if only because of the timing. Blithe has grand plans. Plans which, through word of mouth alone, I have some, albeit limited, understanding of." The man's smug smile widened. "And he puts those plans into motion _today_. He has already taken the first step: eliminating an enemy who has proven to be a great threat to him."

After a moment's hesitation, Dearborn let go of the man's shirt, stepped back. The man brushed himself off and walked back to his bed. As he climbed under the covers, he surveyed Dearborn with a neutral expression. "I cannot tell you who that enemy is, of course. Our trade has not been _that_ favorable. But I'm sure you have some inkling of what's going on, regarding everyone's identities."

"Oh yes," said Dearborn darkly. "I'm well aware that he is Emmett Fawley."

The man raised his eyebrows, smiling. "It seems you don't need my assistance at all, then."

Taureau Barkley froze. This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all.

"Well, off with you then, Mr Dearborn. It was a pleasure doing business."

Mind racing, searching for his next course of action.

"Mr Dearborn? What- what are you doing?"

"Like I said before," said Dearborn. "I've given you nothing."

"Get back! No!"

"_Obliviate_."

A few seconds later, there was a sharp crack, and Dearborn was no longer in the room. Snapping into action, Taureau Barkley knew he had to act fast. With another crack, he too was gone.

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Caradoc apparated onto the front steps of a large, dark building. The home of Emmett Fawley. _Blithe_.

He tried the door, out of habit more than anything. Oddly enough, it was open. With his wand out, he pushed through, entered the house.

It was dark inside, and quiet. The walls seemed tight. There were picture frames, but he couldn't make anything out. He didn't light up his wand. If Fawley was here, he couldn't alert him to his presence.

Stepping slowly, cautiously, Caradoc made his way forward. It was a thin corridor, at the end of which was another dark room. No floorboards creaked, which was a relief. He let out his breaths gradually, being as quiet as he could. Other than his slow, soft footfalls, there was no noise coming from anywhere else in the house. Still, he found himself on edge, couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched.

Caradoc emerged into what he recognized as a kitchen - the silhouette of a table, a sink by the wall. He walked further, to an open door revealing yet another dark room. The darkness was thicker here, the room was small. He stepped in, able to make out the shape of a desk against the wall. Reaching out he felt a chair in front of him. Empty.

He turned. There was a silhouette in the doorway, unmoving.

Caradoc trained his wand on it. "I advise you not to try anything foolish. I've already been attacked once today, and I'm not keen on another one."

The silhouette was small, like a person crouching low.

Caradoc frowned. "Lumos."

His wand lit up, the room appeared around him, and the House-elf in front of him was glaring with piercing venom. "Intruders are not welcome in my master's house!"

"Merlin," breathed Caradoc, lowering his wand. He walked to the wall and flicked on the light, putting his wand's light out.

"Intruders are not welcome in my master's house," she repeated crossly, stomping her little foot.

"Considering your master is a Death Eater and a murderer, I'm not inclined to care how unwelcome I am here. Although," he said, making to step past her and out of the room, "who _does_ welcome intruders in their house?"

"My master is not a Death Eater," she said blankly.

He paused and turned, then gave her a pitying look. "What's your name?"

"Amila."

"Look, Amila. I'll put this very simply. Your master is a dangerous man, and he associates with some dangerous people." He strolled about the room, stretching a cramp in his leg. The last day had largely consisted of running. "Just this morning I was being chased by one of his associates. A particularly dangerous man, who-" Caradoc stared, "is in that picture frame right there."

Caradoc rushed to the desk and picked up the frame. Taureau Barkley and Emmett Fawley, smiling out at him, the Eiffel Tower poking up into a beautiful blue sky behind them.

"Ah," said Amila, "you mean Master Barkley."

Caradc jerked his head to her. "_Master_?"

She nodded, her ears flapping in the air. "Master Fawley has been with Master Barkley for many years."

"Been with," Caradoc said quickly. "What do you mean _been with_?"

"Been…" She looked at him like he was an idiot, and seemed to be choosing words that would make sense to him. "Been together. As a couple."

"A couple." Caradoc put a hand to his forehead and closed his eyes. "Barkley and Fawley... a couple."

"There's nothing wrong with it," said Amila hotly. "If you think-"

"No, no, not at all," said Caradoc, raising his hands. "If anything I reckon good on them, I'm quite happy for- Hold on, Barkley tried to kill me this morning! I'm not happy for them!"

"Oh," she said, her face clearing. "You must be Caradoc Dearborn, then."

"I- Yes, I'm Caradoc Dearborn," he said irritably. "So Fawley sent Barkley to kill me?"

"No," she said. "Master Barkley just hates you."

"Oh."

"Why would you think Master Fawley wants you dead?"

"I've interfered with his plans a number of times," said Caradoc, looking at the rest of the items sitting on the desk. "I'd imagine I'm quite high on his list of people to kill. Where is he right now?"

"He's gone to confront his enemy," Amila announced proudly.

"Yes, I'd heard about that," said Caradoc, remembering what he'd been told shortly before coming to the house. "'Eliminating an enemy who has proven to be a great threat to him', right? So who's his enemy?"

"A terrible man called Blithe."

Caradoc jerked his head to her again. "What?"

She looked bemused at his constant state of shock. "Master Fawley has been investigating a man called Blithe for months now. Today he is confronting him."

"No, no, no," said Caradoc. "That makes no sense. Fawley _is_ Blithe, and Barkley works for Blithe! Or at the very least, they have a relationship - for instance, oh, I don't know, they're a _couple_!"

Amila shook her head. "Not at all. Master Fawley wants to arrest the man called Blithe. He's told me many times. Master Barkley began employ with Blithe one year ago. When he found out he was working for a Death Eater, he told Master Fawley instantly. Master Fawley is the Head of the Auror Department, after all. And soon he'll be the Minister!"

Caradoc looked away from her proud face, his mind finally catching up with the situation. "So Fawley isn't Blithe… And you're saying Fawley is Blithe's enemy, which means that right now...Oh, Merlin."

"What?" said Amila, tilting her head.

Caradoc looked at her slowly. He knew he'd never get the opportunity to apologize to Emmett Fawley. It was already too late for that. He walked from the room, paused in the doorway. "I'm so sorry."

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Blithe sighed sadly, watched Emmett Fawley continue to struggle against his bonds. "I respect your tenacity, my friend."

Arms and legs bound to a chair, Fawley rocked back and forth, still trying to prise himself free. He hadn't tried to tip himself backwards, though. The chair was durable plastic, and all he would achieve was a concussion.

"There are many similarities between you and I. Your methods are unorthodox. Your style is blunt, and therefore effective."

Fawley ceased struggling for a moment, panting a little.

"So similar, in fact," Blithe continued, "that the people who should have been your allies from the start still suspect that you are Blithe. You!"

Fawley looked at him, radiating hatred.

"Of course, that's exactly what I want them to think, but it's still difficult for me. I've allowed you to take credit for all my hard work." He paused. "Until now, of course."

"Tell me something," said Fawley, his voice rough. "Why did you hire Taureau? I assume you knew of our relationship."

Blithe smiled. "Like I said. We're similar. You tell me."

"You knew some aspect of the relationship would get out," he muttered. "Making me suspect number one."

"Brilliant, isn't it?"

Fawley sighed, let his head hang back. He looked up at the high ceiling. They were in a large warehouse. Empty, completely spotless, but for the two of them and the chair. "What now, then? Why am I not dead yet? You going to torture me first?"

"I have no intention of torturing you, my friend."

"Then what do you want, _Blithe_?" The name was said derisively, and with a snort. "Are we simply here for conversation?"

"I just want one question answered," Blithe said quietly. He crouched to look Fawley in the eye. "Who else knows my identity? Who have you told?"

Fawley smiled widely, a smile of equal parts exhaustion and triumph. "Torture away, old friend. Let's see how long I last, eh?"

"Don't do this, Emmett."

"You should have told me from the start that you wanted me to cooperate. I could have saved us both the trouble."

"I'm not going to torture you."

"Well, it's either that, or you kill me."

"Yeah." Blithe sighed and raised his wand. "It seems I must figure it out myself."

"I think you'll have to," Fawley agreed.

"Goodbye, then," he said after a few more moments. "Our little games these past few months have been exhilarating."

Fawley inclined his head. "Until we meet on the other side."

"Come now," said Blithe, smiling, "I think you'll be waiting quite some time for that, right?"

"Eh." Fawley shrugged. "I give you a year at best."

A laugh. Then, "Avada Kedavra."

Fawley's body went limp just as a door burst open. Taureau Barkley raced into the warehouse, and his eyes locked onto the body in the chair immediately. "What have you done?" he roared. "_What have you done?_"

"You," said Blithe, frowning. "What are you doing here?"

The face around those Aviator sunglasses contorted in fury, the figure clad in a salmon pink three-piece suit grew closer and closer, and a wand was raised. Blithe knew intent to kill when he saw it.

"Oh, bother," he said.

The jet of green light shot at him, and he darted to the side. Jumped back three times, each time just barely dodging a separate curse.

He stopped suddenly and raised his wand. "Avada-" He had to break off and dodge again.

Not for the first time, Blithe found himself smiling at how impressive Taureau Barkley was. He needed to mount an offensive, or else he'd be facing a very abrupt and untimely death.

Running forward, Blithe prepared to launch a flurry of complex spells at the raging mass of destruction he himself had employed, and one more time stopped short. A pulsing orb of white light raced at him through the air. Blithe had seen that spell twice before, was well acquainted with its effects.

With a few split-seconds in which to work, he worked. Blithe flicked his wand. The chair and Fawley's body crashed into Taureau Barkley from behind, propelling him close to the orb which looked ready to-

Blithe turned on the spot, apparated away, popped onto the street across the warehouse. A moment later, a boom that he felt reverberate through his chest, and through the windows decorating the upper portion of the structure was a flash of white light. The windows shattered, letting out clouds of wispy, white smoke.

He turned, ignored the cries of alarm from the people on the street. He didn't have time to verify the death of Barkley - didn't much care, either. A year of planning was reaching its conclusion, and things would be moving much faster from now on, he knew.

There was no time to waste.

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James sprinted into the Entrance Hall and up the stairs, Sirius by his side.

"How could you forget the Invisibility Cloak?" Sirius said accusingly.

James glared. "How could _you_ forget your bloody suitcase?"

"It happens," Sirius muttered.

They reached the Second Floor, and then the Third, making great pace.

"I know what it was," said James suddenly, grinning. "You were preoccupied with McKinnon this morning, weren't you?"

Sirius scowled. "No."

"Oh," said James in a high-pitched voice, "how I hate Easter break! I won't see you for a whole week, Paddy-poo!" Then he lowered his voice. "Don't worry, McKinny. I'll come visit you every day." The higher voice. "Oh, but my parents won't approve!" Then lower. "Forget your parents, and your fiancé. All we need is our love."

"Remember when you were asking why McKinnon and I didn't want everyone to know?" Sirius growled between breaths. "This is why. This is exactly why."

James smirked.

"Excuse me!"

The two paused, and James looked back.

Three men were down the corridor. James recognized them as the friends of Professor Windstrum that he'd met in Hogsmeade. Dumbledore had since recruited them to join the fight against the Death Eaters, and a more reassuring presence could not have been found. James had walked past them on their way to Dumbledore's office a few times, and he'd found himself envious of how easily they exuded power. Danylo, Artem, and Maksym were their names, and James was incredibly glad they weren't the enemy.

"Do you know where Professor Windstrum is?" asked one of them. He had dark hair, but James hadn't yet matched their names to their faces.

"No," said James. "He's probably gone home already, he tries to get out whenever he can. I think he gets sick of the castle."

Another one of them nodded, a smirk on his angled face. "That sounds like Anton, alright."

"Maybe he's with Dumbledore, though," Sirius said. "Listen, we have to go. The train could leave any time now."

"It leaves in half an hour," said the third one. His face was gentle, and he smiled. "You have plenty of time. Relax."

James looked at Sirius. "How come the students aren't told what time it leaves?"

"To keep us on our toes?"

"They notify all students well in advance," said the first one, rolling his eyes. "Anyway, off with you both. Have a good holiday."

James and Sirius nodded and turned. "You too," James called over his shoulder.

They neared the next set of stairs, and James' lungs screamed at him in exasperation.

"Some of the girls reckon those three look alright," said Sirius.

"Better than alright, the way I hear it. Merlin, put any halfway decent adult bloke in this school and the girls go crazy."

"It's the maturity," said Sirius. "They love a good mature bloke."

James had stopped looking at each new set of stairs. It became too disheartening. "How on earth do _we_ get by, then?"

"You know, Prongs, I wonder the same thing myself." Sirius paused. "Oh, wait. We're brilliant."

"Ah, yes. That should just about do it."

They quietened then, saving their breaths as they ascended the levels.

"What about Evans, then?" Sirius asked after a while. "Does she reckon they look alright?"

"When you catch me talking to Evans about guys," James puffed, "I want you to kill me, Padfoot."

Sirius laughed. Then, "You really need to ask her out, Prongs." James said nothing. "I'm one hundred percent sure she'll say yes."

James had a feeling she would, too. Things seemed so sure, these days. But… "I don't want to risk it. I've ruined things too many times."

"Well, you'll have to eventually. Take too long and your chance will blitz right past you."

The portrait of the Fat Lady was finally in sight. James smiled wryly. "Should I be taking your advice when your girlfriend is engaged?"

"She's not my girlfriend."

"Oh. In that case, there's no problem."

Sirius glowered. Then he sighed. "Shut it, Prongs."

James laughed.

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Caradoc kicked an Auror in the chest, launched an elbow into the jaw of another.

This was the sixth safehouse they'd discovered in a month, and Caradoc didn't know how much longer he could keep this up. One slip up, one bad day, and someone among the many people hunting him down would either take him in or kill him. Caradoc wasn't ready for either of those things. As tired as he was, he still had a job to do.

The third Auror reared up in front of him, a thin, snarling man, and Caradoc stunned him simply. Looked around. Every opponent was down. Cardoc immobilized them all, and threw Floo powder into the fireplace. Instantly, green flames burst up, and Caradoc wasted no time in popping his head up into the fireplace of Albus Dumbledore's office.

"Anyone home?"

"Yes, we're here," said Anton Windstrum impatiently. With him was Dumbledore and three men Caradoc vaguely recognized. "The train leaves in twenty minutes. What did you need to tell us so desperately?"

"I don't have long either," said Caradoc swiftly. "The short of it is, I know Blithe's plan."

They all stared at him.

"Among other things, I've come across some valuable information taken from Emmett Fawley's office - who is _not_ Blithe, but more on that later - and I think I know how we can stop him."

"Caradoc, what on earth are you-" Anton started.

"No time." He looked at Dumbledore. "Professor, Blithe's got the Muggle Prime Minister under the _Imperius Curse_."

Dumbledore's eyes widened behind his half-moon spectacles. "Are you sure?"

"Quite. But we have a window in which to stop him - a window in which we can finally capture Blithe!" His face was hot, and there was ash in his mouth. By now he had done it many times, but he reckoned he'd never grow fond of shoving his face into a fireplace. "And it's tomorrow."

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Lily raced through the corridors, her fear of missing the Hogwarts Express bringing her to a frenzy. McGonagall could not have picked a worse time to have 'an urgent message for her'. The train would leave for London in ten minutes, and Lily Evans was still in the castle. This sort of tardiness was unprecedented.

Alice and Marlene had long since been on the train. Marlene had been particularly smug that Lily would be running late, but Marlene hadn't had many opportunities to take the high ground to Lily lately, so Lily allowed her that much.

She wondered if she'd see James over the break. Maybe that was how he'd finally ask her out. Or, she supposed, maybe she'd just have to ask _him_ out.

"Lily Evans!"

Lily stopped and whirled around.

Peeves the Poltergeist zoomed through the air towards her, and when he stopped in front of her he puffed his chest out proudly. "McGonagall said if I saw you to tell you something, and I've promptly forgotten what it was."

"Peeves," said Lily impatiently, "I don't have time for this."

"Time," said Peeves dreamily. "Funny thing, isn't it?"

"Peeves," Lily growled.

"Did you know time is a social construct?"

She raised her wand. "I swear to God, Peeves-"

"Okay, okay!" Peeves grinned, then frowned a little. "No, I really have forgotten what it was."

Lily gritted her teeth and lowered her wand. "Great. If that will be all, then…"

"Ah!" Peeve's face brightened. "I am to tell Lily Evans that her parents are dead!" Then he hesitated. "Condolences."

After a few seconds, and with a shrug, Peeves flipped head over heels and zoomed back down the corridor, quickly lost from sight.

Through slippery fingers, Lily dropped her wand.


	24. Wishful Thinking

From King's Cross station, James and Sirius apparated to Potter Manor. Beautiful lawns and spectacular hedges, shaped with painstaking accuracy into assorted magical creatures, replaced the station's crowd of busy bodies and the drabness of the middle-class. As little as James cared for his family's mountain of wealth, he had to admit that it was certainly kinder to the eyes than the dreadful realism that everyday life had on display.

"All I'm saying," said Sirius, shouldering open the front door and trudging inside before James, "is that a one week break is excessive. We don't need a whole week for Easter."

"Are you mental, Padfoot?" James asked, unable to believe what he was hearing. They walked through to the kitchen, where Sirius hopped onto the counter and James rummaged through the pantry. "We get a week off school! I've never known you to complain about time off school."

Sirius shrugged. "I just think it distracts from our studies."

"No, you don't," James said, grabbing some shortbread and closing the pantry cupboard. They walked from the kitchen to the stairs. "You want to be at school for another reason."

Sirius said nothing.

"Merlin," said James, "McKinnon's really done a number on you, hasn't she?"

"That's not why."

"You're going to miss her _that_ much? That you'd rather be at school?"

Sirius said nothing again.

"My word, Sirius, you're not even together!"

"I know," Sirius snapped. "I know that. But I like her. And I know that I shouldn't like her-"

"Because she's engaged," said James through a mouthful of shortbread.

"Yes," said Sirius irritably, "because she's engaged. But I do, and I don't see that changing any time soon. Honestly, the way you lot go at me, you'd think I've kicked a puppy."

James shrugged. "I don't really care, to be honest. As long as this whole business doesn't affect her on the Quidditch pitch, I'm fine with you destroying a relationship."

"Right," said Sirius, wrinkling his nose.

As they approached the stairs, they found Mr Potter being berated by his wife. They were both dressed to head out, and a chandelier was floating in the air beside them. Mrs Potter noticed the two approach and paused her telling off of her husband to give them a hug and a kiss. "Boys," she said warmly, "how was the train ride?"

"It was alright," said James. "Mum, the chandelier…"

"Yes, I know. Your father," she gave her husband a look and he stared at his shoes with great interest, "thought it would be a good idea to 'upgrade' all our upholstery. For no good reason."

"To match the color pallete of the rooms," Mr Potter muttered.

"For no good reason," she said again. "Not realizing, or not appreciating, or perhaps simply forgetting, that this house is centuries old and redecoration is not a simple matter. I caught him before he could do more damage than removing a chandelier. Luckily."

"If you could see what I had planned-" he started.

"We do not need a talking chandelier."

"You haven't even considered it."

"What is there to consider?"

"Dear, you could _talk _to it."

She stared, then narrowed her eyes. "That's it? You had one reason?"

"Think about it-"

"So, you see," she said, turning back to James and Sirius with gritted teeth, "we've been here for some time."

"I can imagine," said Sirius, looking as amused as ever by the two. "Are you guys heading out now?"

"Yes," said Mr Potter quickly. "Dumbledore has called us away, so we'll have to postpone this conversation, Euphemia, and finish it when we get home."

"Nothing is going to change."

"I think a change of scenery will give you a fresh perspective."

"It won't."

Mr Potter pressed on. "The chandelier can stay put, and we'll see how we feel when we get home."

"You're not even going to put it back?" James asked doubtfully.

"I don't actually know how to," Mr Potter admitted.

Mrs Potter closed her eyes, breathed in, and turned around. "We're going. If that chandelier gets smashed, Fleamont…"

"Don't worry, dear," said Mr Potter, following her. "I cast my strongest charm on it."

"And what's that?"

"_Wingardium Leviosa_."

James heard her sigh before the two turned the corner. He shook his head while Sirius grinned, and they skirted around the floating chandelier before climbing the stairs.

"I'm going to stop by McKinnon's place later, by the way. Not sure if I'll be back tonight."

James made a face at the implication. "Gross. Can't you guys just play board games or something?"

"It's funny you should mention that. Last week we played strip wizard's chess…"

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Gathered in Albus Dumbledore's office were powerful, trusted witches and wizards preparing to deal a devastating blow to the Death Eater forces. Minerva McGonagall stood behind the Headmaster, who sat at his desk, Dedalus Diggle stood near Fleamont and Eugenia Potter, Anton Windstrum and the three Ukranians he had recruited, Danylo, Artem, and Maksym, were with Caradoc by the fireplace, and Sawyer Hughes and Harold Minchum had just walked in.

"If it isn't the men of the hour," said Anton cheerily. "Minister of Magic and his deputy."

Sawyer grinned. "It isn't official yet. The announcement gets made day after tomorrow."

"I am still looking into the murder of Emmett Fawley," said Harold, as serious and straight to the point as ever. "The timing of his killing is unusual. He was in the running to be Minister, and had allied himself with Morgan Bulstrode before he, too, passed. This suggests Fawley was allied with the Death Eaters. But he was killed by a killing curse, so only a Death Eater would have killed him. Why?"

"Caradoc has some information that might enlighten us all on that matter," said Dumbledore. He gestured to him. "Caradoc."

"Yes," said Caradoc, stepping forward. He explained to them all his recent discovery of the relationship between the late Emmett Fawley and the mercenary Taureau Barkley, and the revelation that Fawley was, in fact, on their side, and had been fighting his own little war against the Death Eaters by himself the whole time. "Fawley, more than anything, was desperate to become the Minister. He needed the power. _That_ is why he allied himself with the likes of Morgan Bulstrode. In order to try to beat you, Sawyer, by any means necessary. His methods were very unorthodox. But he was a good man."

They were all silent for a few moments.

"What else did you learn?" Sawyer asked quietly.

"Well, Fawley's house was a treasure trove of information, as it turned out. I looked around, and found that he had documented all he knew of Blithe's plan, and Blithe's movements."

"Who's Blithe?" whispered Dedalus Diggle.

"A Death Eater," said Anton. "Caradoc and I have been trying to pin him down for almost a year now. He's someone who most likely works in the Ministry, and has passed on all sorts of information to their side that very few people should know."

"I was so sure it was Fawley," Caradoc muttered. "But now… who knows?"

Dedalus looked troubled at the idea of a spy in the Ministry. They all did, in fact. Dumbledore prompted Caradoc. "What did you learn about Blithe from Fawley's study?"

"Everything we need to take him down," said Caradoc, assurance filling his voice. "I know his plan now. He has the Muggle Prime Minister under the Imperius Curse, and intends to use him to allow Voldemort to take over the country completely. Borders will be shut, police will be under his thumb, and if he controls the Muggles, he controls the narrative. They'll get the Muggles on their side first to flush _us _out, tell them we're the bad guys, and once we're out of the way they'll have free reign. There would be absolutely nothing stopping him and his nutter master from mass genocide. With no one in Britain left to fight them, we might just have the first Wizarding world war on our hands."

"And your solution is?" asked Euphemia Potter.

Caradoc smiled. "Fawley knew all this, and made many preparations in response. His first plan was to take Blithe down yesterday. Blithe had made contact with him, you see, and had told him where his base of operations was, a warehouse which was burnt down during their encounter last night. Fawley went to confront Blithe there. Clearly he bit off more than he could chew, but his work wasn't in vain. His next plan was even bigger. He knew of the underground complex that makes up the Death Eaters' headquarters. How he learned this, I have no clue. I was only aware of it after I infiltrated their ranks as a spy. Regardless, as Head of the Auror Department he planned to organize a raid on the warehouse."

"What would that have had to do with Blithe, though?" asked Fleamont Potter.

"He knew that Blithe is going to _be _in that underground complex," said Caradoc, eyes gleaming. "Tonight."

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Lily walked through her living room like a ghost, unresponsive to anything around her. Family and friends crowded the place, crying and talking in quiet, grieving voices. They would give her sympathetic glances, hugs, weepy kisses. Some would ask her how she was faring. That she found particularly stupid. Her parents were dead. How did they think she was faring?

Unresponsive to anything around her. Her parents were dead. Murdered.

The permanence of a deed was her harsh truth. Something done was something done, and there was no reversal, not even with magic. Not really. Her parents died returning home from their holiday, and that was that. It had happened, and no matter how much Lily wished a thing that happened didn't happen, it had. They were gone, and she'd never see them again.

She fought against the urge to break into the Ministry and steal a Time-Turner, save her parents' lives and generate a reality in which she didn't have this awful new development thrust upon her. But that wasn't how it worked. Something done was something done.

And now she had to deal with it. Dead parents.

Lily brought herself back into the moment and looked around. Stood straighter, caught the eye of an auntie and smiled politely, nodded, and-

She couldn't do it, shut her eyes against the flood of tears that was ready to burst forth and hurried from the room, face in the crook of her elbow as she strode to the front door, ran outside and ran some more, reached the street pavement and collapsed, sobbing, tears, snot, moans, and cries of unintelligible, undiluted anguish.

She didn't know how long she weeped, wiping her filthy face on her sleeve and weeping more, for the whole street to see. She didn't care how long, or who saw. Other people were the least of her concern. The peak of grief was the one time she could allow herself to be her most selfish and think only of how much she had lost, not sparing a single thought for others. For someone like Lily Evans, whose every thought seemed usually to dwell only on others, this was a climax of relief, woe, and a sudden surge of all the bad and sad thoughts that every person tucks away into the corner of their mind with the hopes of being forgotten, only to be dwelled upon when next they reached their lowest.

This was Lily's time to dwell. Her sister hated her, her first and best friend at Hogwarts had been truly lost. She'd been born into the lowest caste of her community, forced to reconcile herself with obstacles of suppression and hatred while being scorned in her efforts to rise above it all, and while she had classes to attend and exams discernible on the horizon, a war was being fought, lives were being lost, so that people like her might have a peaceful future. There were so many things that were awful about everything, and Lily didn't know what to do about any of it. Couldn't do a _thing_ about any of it. It was all completely and utterly hopeless.

Footsteps approached, and a figure sat beside her - a figure that hadn't sat beside her in a long, long time. "The neighbours will see you."

Lily wiped her face and stared at Petunia, her body still wracked by involuntary sniffs and shudders. "Bollocks to the neighbours."

A smile with sad eyes. "Even Mrs Morrisson?"

"Bollocks especially to Mrs Morrisson."

"She dotes on you, though. Mum used to always take us over to hers, remember?"

"Yeah."

A pause. "She hates me."

"You said her upholstery was tacky."

"I make no apologies for having taste, Lily."

Lily snorted between sniffs, looked at her sister for a few more moments. Then, "This is all my fault, Tuney." She elaborated when Petunia looked at her blankly. "Mum and Dad, I mean."

"How in the world do you figure that?"

"They came back early from holiday in time for my Easter break. For me! It's because of me that they- that they-"

"All those fancy tricks they teach you at that school, yet not a lick of common sense," Petunia interrupted with a sigh.

Lily swallowed and wiped her face with her sleeve once more, unable to continue.

"Their wanting to see you was only one of the many, many things that led to what happened to them, Lily. Is the killer's mother to blame for giving birth to him? Or his grandmother? How about whoever manufactured his knife? Or the chicken that laid his breakfast? Because those are all things that also led to that moment. I could name millions more."

"That's not the point," Lily said stubbornly.

"Well, it's a rubbish point," Petunia replied, every bit as stubborn, "borne from the irresistible urge to pin blame somewhere, even if at yourself. I'm doing the same. I could have talked them out of their holiday, or even gone with them. But that gets me nowhere. The blame lies with the killer, and only the killer. Someday, I know retribution will find him."

Lily couldn't believe what she was hearing, could still barely believe Petunia was here with her at all. And Petunia really didn't blame her? "When did you become so wise?"

"You'd be surprised," said Petunia, "how much wisdom is in those magazines I read."

Lily snorted again. Then, tentatively, she leaned closer and rested her head on her sister's shoulder. She felt Petunia hesitate before putting an arm around her.

"I've changed my mind about something," Petunia said eventually, sounding the smallest bit cautious. "I want you to be the Maid of Honor at my wedding."

Lily didn't have room for the tide of emotions that wanted to rise up inside her. She simply hummed. "That would be nice."

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"So Blithe gives his reports every week at these underground headquarters?" said Fleamont Potter. "Why didn't we do something about these headquarters a long time ago?"

"It would have been a small victory," said Dumbledore, "at the cost of what has proved to be valuable intelligence over these last few months."

"Haven't you been visiting these headquarters frequently?" Harold asked of Caradoc. "As a spy? How have you only just learned that Blithe is there once a week?"

"I wouldn't say I visit it frequently," Caradoc said defensively. "And very few people are aware of Blithe's movements. Most of them don't even know about him."

"Now, however," said Dumbledore, "we are in a position to stop him."

Caradoc nodded. "So what should we do?"

Dumbledore gestured to Sawyer. "We are in the presence of our soon-to-be Minister. I am sure he knows."

Sawyer nodded appreciatively. "We should send a crack team in. The raid Fawley had planned won't work, we want Caradoc to remain undercover for now. We'll simply go in, grab Blithe, and get out."

"And how are we going to do that?" asked Dedalus Diggle.

"I have an idea," said Caradoc. "I'll get us in, pretending that I've captured the other members of the team."

Anton nodded happily. "That's good. They'll have to be the more prolific of the lot of us in order to sell it. Sawyer and Harold, I think."

"Brilliant," said Caradoc. "I'll need an accomplice, too. Someone they'll believe is a Death Eater, or at least sympathetic."

"That's us in a nutshell," said Artem with a wry smile on his angled face. Beside him Danylo and Maksym smirked.

Caradoc nodded. "I'll admit, the three of you do look somewhat intimidating."

"We need to make the bait more enticing," said Anton.

"What, the Minister and his deputy isn't enough for you?" asked Professor McGonagall.

"It's still two people, with four supposed Death Eaters. And if we cut down on our fake Death Eaters, our little team is decidedly less potent."

"Increase the bait, then," said Caradoc with a nod. "The next most prolific is, then, Mr Fleamont Potter, ex-Head of the Auror Department."

Fleamont's business-like demeanor instantly switched to that of an excited school child, and a grin flitted onto his face. "Oh, you've made my day, Caradoc, m'boy."

"Don't think I'm not coming, too," warned Euphemia Potter.

"Of course," said Caradoc. "Catching one of you without the other would make things suspicious, after all."

"A team of eight," said Dumbledore. "Will that suffice?"

"One more, Professor," said Caradoc. "We just want a little more strength."

Almost everyone in the room gave a knowing sigh.

"Is it me?" asked Anton. "It's me, isn't it?"

"It's you."

A wide grin. "Brilliant."

"You still have immense influence in the political sphere, and you've somehow become something of a celebrity to many people. An excellent addition to our bait."

Anton beamed. "We're all set, then."

"Hold on," said Dumbledore. "That will not work."

"What do you mean?" Caradoc asked.

"Do you recall the power structure we established during our first meeting, should Sawyer be successful in becoming the Minister? It was to be Sawyer, with Harold by his side, and in the worst case scenario Anton will take their place. You are now proposing we send all three of them on this mission."

"It'll be fine," said Anton impatiently. "We have more than enough strength to ensure nothing goes awry."

"Indulge me," said Dumbledore. "Let us be cautious. Harold should stay, as the already established deputy. The bait is already as enticing as it is going to get."

"Back down to eight people, then," said Caradoc, wrinkling his nose. "One fake Death Eater for each fake prisoner. It's not the surest looking thing in the world."

"Dedalus will go in Harold's stead then," Dumbledore decided.

Dedalus jumped. "Me?"

"Him?" Caradoc asked doubtfully.

"I'm no-one," said Dedalus. "I'm hardly going to make good bait!"

"Nonsense," said Fleamont, clapping him on the back. "You're just as good a bait as the rest of us, Diggle."

"Thank you," said Dedalus miserably.

"Are we all in agreement then?" Dumbledore asked, looking around his office at each of the figures gathered.

"We are," said Caradoc finally, nodding his head and squaring his shoulders. This was about as well as they could have prepared. "Tonight, we'll put an end to this whole sorry affair."


	25. Caradoc

James walked down the stairs from his bedroom to check what the House-elves were cooking for dinner. With his parents out, he probably could have gotten one of them to bring his dinner up to him, but he would have felt like a right prat for doing so. Besides, the dining room in Potter manor was right by the kitchens, and James always had seconds.

He skirted around the chandelier his dad had left levitating in mid-air at the bottom of the staircase, meandered through a hall, and heard voices from the dining room up ahead. The lights were on, and the unmistakable smell of pork wafted through the air, alongside the sound of a fork and knife working furiously. He stepped into the room and looked curiously at Sirius, who was tucking into an enormous cut of sliced pork with gusto.

"I thought you were going to McKinnon's tonight," James said, sitting at the table and gesturing to a House-elf.

Sirius swallowed a mouthful. "No." Went back to eating.

James shrugged, looked around aimlessly while he waited for the House-elf to bring him a plate.

Someone coughed from under the table.

James stared. Sirius froze, his fork inches from his mouth, a piece of pork hanging from it.

The House-elf then came back with a plateful of dinner, and James stood, took the plate, and walked from the room.

"Have fun, you two." He closed the door behind him and snorted. "Damn kids."

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Four fake Death Eaters and five fake prisoners apparated into the clearing in the middle of the Welsh woodland. Caradoc Dearborn took the lead and the others followed, standing back as he crouched and placed his hands on the ground. With a rumbling and a criss-crossing of cracks running through a portion of the ground, that portion slid under the rest of the ground, revealing a metal staircase going down into the brightly lit corridor hiding beneath their very feet.

Wasting no time, Caradoc descended the stairs, placing his footfalls lightly, making no noise. The others followed suit, and when they were all in the corridor, he tapped the grey wall with his wand and with a rumble the ground above them, or rather the ceiling, slid back into place.

They were in. Now the key would be to go undetected for as long as possible.

"What are you doing here?"

Caradoc whirled around. Walking towards them were two masked Death Eaters, hands moving towards the wands fixed onto their belts. Caradoc stepped forward and raised his hands. "Relax," he said easily. "These are my prisoners."

The Death Eater who had spoken looked behind Caradoc. "All eight of them?"

"No, ah, five of them. The other three are on our side." Danylo, Artem, and Maksym nodded and stepped away from the would-be prisoners.

The Death Eater gasped. "Is that Sawyer Hughes? And Fleamont and Euphemia Potter?"

"And that's Anton Windstrum," said the other one, equally stunned. "These are some of our biggest enemies."

"I don't know who the fifth one is, though," the Death Eater admitted.

"Who? Me?" asked Dedalus Diggle.

"That's Dedalus Diggle," said Artem quickly in his thick Ukrainian accent. "He's a notorious Auror."

Caradoc nodded, looked back at the Death Eaters. "I'm sure you've heard of him. You just don't remember."

"Maybe," said the Death Eater, rubbing his neck.

"Where are you taking them?" asked the other Death Eater. "To Rodolphus?"

"Rodolphus? Rodolphus Lestrange?" Caradoc laughed. "He's so busy, there's no need to bother him with this."

"That's the future Minister of Magic, though. And the last two Potters, as well as a Hogwarts professor! These are Dumbledore's closest allies!"

"And Dedalus Diggle," said the first Death Eater.

"Yeah, and Dedalus Diggle."

"No, no," said Caradoc dismissively. "We'll just put them in a cell and be done with it. Tell you what, I can notify Rodolphus about it later, how about that?"

The Death Eaters hesitated.

"I suppose," said the first one.

"Wait," said the other suddenly, "why are they not restrained?"

Caradoc paused, looked back at his companions standing about, looking tense but notably free.

"_Stupefy_," yelled Anton, and the first Death Eater flew back, head hitting the wall hard.

Caradoc shrugged and slugged the other one on the mask so hard it came clean off, clanging onto the ground, and he followed with a swift left hook to the cheek. The Death Eater pirouetted before hitting the ground.

Turning, Caradoc looked at the others. "Let's get moving then, shall we?"

They advanced down the corridor quickly, Caradoc in the lead once more. Artem was a step behind him. Caradoc was pleased with the three Ukranians' performance so far. He judged one's aptitude for fighting evil based on their ability to lie under pressure. Caradoc's own aptitude was, if he said so himself, off the charts.

Ahead, the corridor broke off to the right, and the group paused before the turn. Fleamont Potter stepped forward, waved his wand and closed his eyes. After a second, he nodded, and they took the turn to the next corridor. Empty.

They proceeded in much the same fashion for some time, and Caradoc noticed a significant lack of Death Eaters, aside from the two they'd immediately run into. He considered it a blessing and a curse - it meant the further they went, the more likely a run-in would become, and the more outnumbered they were likely to be. It did not bode well.

"I presume," said Euphemia as they traversed yet another corridor, "that you know where we are going?"

"Of course," said Caradoc. This corridor was dimly lit. In fact, the further they went, the less presentable their surroundings became. It had never surprised Caradoc that the Death Eaters, as rich and spoiled as they all were, thrived in squalor. The Slytherin Common Room was in the dungeon, after all. "Blithe will be in one of three places, depending on who it is that he's here to report to. There's a room where the Death Eaters gather in mass, but if that were the case then I, too, would have been summoned. There's a room for more direct meetings with the higher ups, but even then I doubt it. Almost none of the Death Eaters know what Blithe looks like. I doubt even the higher ups. No, I suspect he'll be in the third place."

"And what's the third place?" asked Sawyer. "The kitchens?"

"No. It's the place where, on rare occasion, one might find Lord Voldemort."

The others walked quietly for a few seconds, before Anton spoke up. "So what is it? A throne room?"

"Not quite," said Caradoc. "The room holds a small table, and Voldemort sits at that table while all the others stand in front of him and relay information. I'd imagine it's the only room in this place that Blithe frequents. But we'll comb through the others first."

After another silence, Dedalus asked, "Do you think he'll be here?"

There was no need to ask who the 'he' in question was.

"No," said Caradoc. "I don't. It has to be someone else. Fawley's intel said Blithe makes these reports weekly, and Voldemort is rarely here at all. We would have to be very, very unlucky." He saw the look on Dedalus' face, and continued, "And if he is here, then we'll make a tactical retreat. Very quickly, I might add."

Dedalus nodded, looking at least a little appeased.

"If Blithe's weekly reports aren't necessarily made to Voldmort," said Fleamont, "then who _are_ they made to?"

Caradoc had been wondering the same thing. "We need to hurry," was all he said.

Danylo grunted. "Someone has probably found the bodies of those two Death Eaters by now."

They all picked up the pace.

Before too much longer, the corridor split three ways. Left would lead to the room for Death Eater gatherings, where Caradoc had visited the first time he came here. Right would lead to the room for smaller meetings. If they continued going straight, they would eventually reach the room where Voldemort made his fleeting appearances.

"I think we should split up," said Fleamont. "We don't have time to do each corridor together."

"I agree," said Sawyer.

Caradoc nodded. "I'll go left. There will be more of them there, and I have the best chance of lying my way out. Anton, Sawyer, I'll bring you two along as prisoners."

"And the rest of us will go right, then?" asked Maksym.

"That's right," said Caradoc. "There will be less Death Eaters, so the six of you should be able to fight your way through. Meet back here when you're done."

"Can I come with you, Caradoc?" asked Dedalus. "I'm not much of a duelist, is all. I'd much rather go with the lying team than the fighting team."

Fleamont frowned. "You're an Auror."

"I am," Dedalus admitted.

"Dedalus," said Fleamont, "I was the Head of the Department a few months ago. How on earth did you get in?"

"My examiner was unwell, he had to leave early, so he passed everyone."

"What? What was his name?"

"Is now the time?" asked Caradoc. "Dedalus, you're with us, then. Now let's go!"

They each nodded and split off, the Ukrainians and Potters going one way and Caradoc the other, with Anton, Sawyer, and Dedalus a step behind, his 'prisoners'.

"You know," muttered Sawyer, "I'll be the Minister of Magic in two days, Dedalus. You really shouldn't be talking about how bad you are at your job in front of me."

"But we're friends," said Dedalus blankly.

"That's not the point."

"You're not going to fire me, though, right?"

"Well, no, but-"

"So it's fine?"

"It's not fine," Sawyer insisted. "I can't always turn a blind eye just because I like you."

"That's sweet of you to say."

"No, that's not the _point_-"

"Shut it," said Caradoc suddenly. They'd arrived by a door at the end of the corridor with light leaking out from under. "I'm going to bind your hands. The three of you will stay behind me, I'll check the room for Blithe, and then we'll head back. All clear?"

"Crystal," said Anton.

Caradoc nodded, flicked his wand, and the three of them had ropes binding their wrists. He turned and opened the door.

It was large, bright. More than a dozen Death Eaters stood idly around the room with two other Death Eaters before them, masks off. The lot of them turned when the door opened. One of the unmasked Death Eaters had a fresh bruise on his cheek.

Caradoc's eyes widened.

The Death Eater gasped and pointed. "That's them!"

Caradoc shut the door hurriedly, and before he could even turn around it was blasted off its hinges, smashing into him and throwing him off his feet. Death Eaters charged out of the room, yelling and brandishing their wands like battle axes. He got back up, dodged a killing curse, stunned a Death Eater.

"Caradoc," yelled Anton.

"What?"

Anton headbutted a Death Eater hard, and held up his bound wrists. "A little help!"

"Oh, bollocks."

He flicked his wand, then refocused his attention on the Death Eaters. Sawyer leaped into action, consecutive jets of light shooting out of his wand so quickly it was like one continuous stream. Dedalus had leaped onto a Death Eaters back, punching the top of his target's head. Caradoc waved his wand, sent one Death Eater flying into another, and the next Death Eater came out of nowhere and barged a shoulder into him. Caradoc stumbled back, looked up in time to catch a gloved fist to the face, stumbled back again. He spun, dodged green light, flicked his wand and the Death Eater cast a shield charm before firing off another killing curse. Caradoc let it pass by his head and ran forward, rolled as the Death Eater shot yet another jet of green light, sprang up before his opponent and tackled him-

The Death Eater apparated on the spot, just before contact, and Caradoc crashed onto the floor. He rolled over, green light sizzling into the floor, got to his feet and threw up a hand. "Wait!"

The Death Eater paused.

"I-" Caradoc bent over and sucked in some air. "Just give me a moment."

"Sure," came the muffled voice of his opponent, sounding obnoxiously unfrazzled. "Take as long as you need."

"Thank you," said Caradoc, straightening up and flicking his wand.

The Death Eater flew back, hit the wall, and fell.

Caradoc looked around, saw Anton whirling between three of his own Death Eaters. Caradoc ran forward and disarmed the first one, following it with an elbow to the head. The Death Eater dropped. The other two were on either side of Anton, and Caradoc moved beside his friend and they stood, back to back, taking one each. Caradoc dispatched his quickly, but two more took that place, and he grimaced.

"Want to swap?" asked Anton from behind him.

"How many do you have now?"

"Five."

"Then no."

A pause. "Four?"

"Still no."

Caradoc stunned one of his opponents, cast a full body-bind on the second, and when the last one looked around at his friends Caradoc stunned him too. He turned, just in time to see Anton dispatch his last opponent. The corridor was clear of any masked figures still standing. Anton looked at him, gave him a wry smirk. "Your form is still off."

Caradoc snorted. "My form's always been better than yours, mate, and you know it."

"You seem to have forgotten Fourth Year."

Caradoc glared. "I asked you for help once. _Once_."

"Still asked."

"It was only an essay!"

"And if you'd done that essay yourself, your form might not be so sloppy."

"Oh, bugger off, Windstrum," he huffed, turning around.

Anton laughed behind him.

Sawyer was bending over Dedalus, who was lying on the ground, completely still. Caradoc rushed over, his blood freezing, but Sawyer looked up at him and rolled his eyes. "Just unconscious. He got knocked out, almost immediately."

Caradoc paused, and then sighed. "Oh, Diggle."

"I'm not carrying him."

"We'll just levitate him," said Anton, looking at Dedalus with a wrinkled nose.

"No," said Caradoc. "Unconscious, he'll be safer here. We don't know what lies ahead."

"We can't leave him with all these Death Eaters, 'Doc."

"We don't have a choice. Look," he cast a disillusionment charm, and Dedalus' body slowly became translucent, or close to. Squinting, his form was visible, but only upon close inspection. "We have to leave him here, now let's go."

"I agree with him," said Sawyer. "In the fight ahead, he'll slow us down, and could get caught in the crossfire. We don't have time for anything more secure right now, so let's go. He'll be fine."

Reluctantly, Anton nodded, and the three of them went back the way they came.

"Those two," said Caradoc as they walked, referring to the Death Eaters they had first encountered, "managing to get here before us is unfortunate. They must know their way better than me, and now the cat's out of the proverbial bag because of it. I'd imagine my time as a spy has come to an end."

Sawyer nodded. "On the bright side, you will no longer need to be on the run. Now that we can reveal you've been a spy this whole time, the Auror Department will stop hunting you down."

"I've gone from being hunted by every party in the game to being in the clear," said Caradoc, smiling slowly. "It will be good to finally get some rest."

"You've earned it," Anton told him. "You've really done a fantastic job, mate."

"Ah, no getting sentimental on me, Anton. It's unbecoming of you."

Anton grinned.

The three of them reached the intersecting corridors again, where the other five were waiting for them, looking slightly worse for wear, but decidedly better than them.

"I take it they didn't buy the lie?" asked Euphemia, an eyebrow raised at their ragged appearance.

"You are correct," said Caradoc. "How did it go on your end?"

"Bit of a fight," said Fleamont, "but we showed them what for in the end, didn't we boys?" The Ukranians started agreeing cheerily, and Euphemia looked at Fleamont, hand on hip. "And, er, wife. We _all_ showed them what for."

"It's no wonder they say the Ministry is a boy's club," she said, shaking her head. "What would you have done if James was a girl, Fleamont?"

"I'd have asked for a refund," he said, nudging Artem, who sniggered. He looked at his wife again and straightened. "I'm joking, of course. I would have celebrated. I would have _preferred_ a girl to a boy, in fact. What with the dresses and the drama-"

"Drama?"

"Pregnancy, menstruation," Fleamont continued.

"On Fleamont's behalf," said Caradoc loudly, "I'm going to put us all back on topic. I'm assuming you didn't find Blithe?"

"No," said Maksym. "We took off all their masks. They were all known Death Eaters."

"Were we supposed to do that?" Sawyer muttered.

"No, there was no need," said Caradoc. "Blithe doesn't strike me as the robe and mask wearing type. Besides, he was never going to be in that room. So few people have seen him - I doubt he gives reports to roomfulls of Death Eaters."

"What now, then?" asked Anton. "Onwards?"

Caradoc nodded. "Onwards."

They took the third and final corridor, walked along it until they came to a dim room. Caradoc approached a door on the far side, looked back at them all. "Prisoners at the ready."

The three Ukranians grabbed Sawyer, Fleamont, and Eugenia. Caradoc took Anton's arm. Looked back at the door. Slowly, he opened it, stepped through, and-

It was empty.

Dimly lit, a small table, a small chair. All empty. No Voldemort, no Blithe.

Caradoc breathed out, a long breath. He looked back at the others and left the small room, shaking his head. "We must have missed it."

"What about that door?" asked Anton, pointing to a closed door opposite the empty room. "Where does that lead?"

Caradoc looked over. "I haven't been there."

"Could Blithe be giving his report there?"

"It's the only other place," said Caradoc slowly.

Caradoc approached the door, the others a step behind, put a hand to the handle.

"Caradoc," said Anton. Caradoc glanced behind, and Anton looked at him for a few seconds before nodding. "Let's do it."

Caradoc opened the door and stepped through, into a large, brightly lit room. On the far side were some steps, and atop those steps, a chair.

Sitting in the chair was Rodolphus Lestrange.

"Hello, Dearborn. Brought some friends?"

The others entered the room behind Caradoc, and paused, tilting their hands at the single enemy. No other doors, no other foes in the room.

"Yes," said Caradoc. "Some prisoners."

"Ah," said Rodolphus. "The Potters, some foreigners, a teacher, and the future Minister of Magic. All unbound, too. You must be quite intimidating."

"These ones," said Caradoc, indicating the Ukranians, "are with me."

Artem, Maksym, and Danylo stepped forward on cue, each bringing their prisoner along by the arm. Caradoc pulled Anton forward by the arm, too.

"I see," said Rodolphus. "And why bring them here, precisely? To this room? We have many, many cells spread throughout this place."

"They needed to go to the toilet."

Rodolphus smiled. "Is that right?"

"That's right."

Rodolphus seemed to consider this for a few seconds, before laughing shortly. "You really had me fooled, you know. All this time. You had me properly fooled. I entered your mind the day you first came here, do you remember? I was so sure you were one of us."

Caradoc's shoulders dropped, and he let go of Anton.

"When I learned you were a spy, a double agent, no, a _triple_ agent, working for Dumbledore, I was, to be quite honest, flabbergasted."

Caradoc frowned. "You're well informed."

"Only as of recently, don't you worry. Now, why did you come here, Dearborn? To catch Blithe?" Rodolphus laughed.

"That's right," said Caradoc. "And you're going to tell me who he is, and where I can find him."

Rodolphus looked at him pityingly. "I'm going to have to spell this out for you, aren't I? Think, Dearborn. Blithe is giving a report today? Really? Blithe gives reports once a week? _Really_?" Rodolphus laughed again. "You think the man whose identity remains a secret to almost every Death Eater gives us 'weekly reports'? Come now, Dearborn. You're a smart man. You must see it was a trap."

"A trap for Fawley," Caradoc realized. "Blithe let him find out about the weekly reports. So it was never true?"

"Of course not."

"So you would have killed Fawley today… But then he went after Blithe yesterday, and died then instead."

"Now the question is," said Rodolphus, sitting forward, eyes gleaming, "did we cancel the trap, or are you in it right at this moment?"

Caradoc looked around at the others, who all stared at Rodolphus bemusedly, and Caradoc gave Rodolphus a pointed look. "You don't seem to have realized your situation, Lestrange."

"No," said Rodolphus loudly, standing. "No, no, no. _You_ haven't realized your situation."

Caradoc's wand rose the moment Rodolphus moved, trained on the man. "You're under arrest."

"Who is Blithe?" Rodolphus asked, descending the stairs. "Surely you've figured it out by now."

Caradoc moved forward, levelling his wand at Rodolphus' face. "Not one more step."

Rodolphus ignored him still, started walking past him, and Caradoc pressed his wand into the man's throat. Rodolphus sneered. "Stun me. Disarm me. Bind me. It matters not. You won't kill me, and so I frankly don't care what you do."

"No?" Caradoc breathed. "Not even if I put you in a cell for the rest of your life? The Dementors don't make great conversation, Lestrange."

"Threaten me one more time," Rodolphus whispered, looking strangely excited. "I just want to hear it again."

"Rodolphus Lestrange," said Caradoc, "you are under arrest."

Rodolphus closed his eyes. "Famous last words, indeed."

Sawyer yelled something and Caradoc was knocked back and the jet of green light missed him by an inch, shooting from Rodolphus' wand, hidden up a sleeve, and hitting the wall. Sawyer ran forward then, wand trained on Rodolphus, teeth bared, and Caradoc hit the ground, found Anton by his side, was helped to his feet. Caradoc looked up in time to see Sawyer start to wave his wand while running, saw green light hit him from behind and he dropped.

"No," Caradoc roared.

Rodolphus cackled. "In front of you the whole time, Dearborn!"

Artem lowered his wand. Beside him, Euphemia turned to the Ukranian, eyes wide in fury at the betrayal. A knife appeared, and from behind her Danylo reached round and slit her throat.

"Right in front of your eyes," yelled Rodolphus.

Fleamont whirled, flicked his wand and Maksym, knife of his own in hand, was flung backwards, head cracking against the wall. Another flick of the wand and Artem too went careening away, hit a wall. He turned to Danylo in time to have that knife, already slick with his wife's blood, buried deep into his belly.

"You see it now, don't you, Dearborn?" Rodolphus gloated. "Blithe was right there all along!"

Caradoc turned slowly. "No," he breathed.

Anton Windstrum looked at him with sorrowful resolve. "I am sorry, my friend."

Caradoc looked into the eyes of his best friend, saw the green light flash in them before it hit him, and then death clamped its jaws shut around him, after chasing him down for so, so long.


	26. Fury

James had been thinking of Lily when it happened. At some point over the Easter break, surely, it would be acceptable for him to stop by her place. They were friends, after all. And her parents loved him. She would be happy to see him, he should definitely stop by her place. The sooner the better, in fact. Was his analysis on the matter impacted at all by the feeling in the pit of his stomach that something was missing from his life when she wasn't with him? Perhaps. But also they were friends, and that was the reasoning he was running with.

He was grabbing a cloak and pondering how mad she'd be if he barged into her house at eleven o'clock at night when he heard it.

A crashing, a shattering, of something into pieces, and then the shattering of those pieces.

James sprinted past the House-elves and into the hall by the stairs to see a chandelier, what _had_ been a chandelier at any rate, lying in thousands of little glass and crystal shards on the marble floor.

"Dad had levitated that," James said to no-one at all, frowning. "His charms don't simply wear off."

"Um…"

James glanced around. The House-elves had gathered before him, looking up at him with duty in their eyes. Something else, too. Grief.

"It seems," said one of them, Fidget, with his wide blue eyes and squeaky voice, "that our ownership has changed."

James frowned. "What?"

As one, the elves lowered themselves and bowed before him, foreheads and floppy ears touching the ground. "Master."

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

It was the peace of knowing he was exactly where he was supposed to be that brought the dumb grin to Sirius' face.

"What are you smiling about?" asked Marlene.

They lay on her bed. Her head was nestled in the crook of his neck, her nose touching his cheek, delicate fingers splayed against his bare chest.

"This," he said, kissing her forehead. "Right now, there's not a single other thing in the world that I want. This is perfection."

She shifted upwards so their lips were level, a hair's breadth apart, her eyes twinkling deviously. "Is that right?" Her slender leg slipped between his. "There's _nothing_ you want?"

"Well," Sirius whispered, grabbing a buttock-

The door burst open and Sirius' head was shoved down, a blanket thrown over him.

"Mum, I'm naked!"

She was. Sirius' cheek was pressed against her belly, rising and falling as she breathed. The air was hot.

"Oh, I'm not looking, dear," came the voice of Marlene's mother. Sirius had never seen her before. How could he, when he was shoved under a blanket when the opportunity arose? "Your father wants you to join us for breakfast today, as we didn't see much of you yesterday after we picked you up. What did Lily want, anyway, on your first day back from school? Is she alright?"

Marlene hadn't gone to Lily's the previous day, of course. She had... _visited_ Sirius at Potter Manor. She'd visited him again in the gardens, visited quite quickly on the street, before they'd settled at her place. Where they visited once more.

"Lily's good," said Marlene quickly. "Is that all, Mum?"

"Yes, yes, I'll leave you. Will you be down for breakfast soon?"

"In a bit."

"Okay, dear." The door closed.

Sirius burst from under the blankets and sat up, sucking in some fresh air. "I still think you should just introduce me to her."

"You know I can't," she said, sitting up with him. "In case you've forgotten, I'm technically betrothed."

Sirius grimaced. He hated being reminded.

"Not even technically," she continued. "Literally. I'm literally betrothed."

A conversation they'd had many times, and one they both grew weary of, was prevented by an owl slipping through a window and into the room. It was James' owl, and Sirius stretched his arm out. It landed, stuck out its leg, and Sirius removed the offered piece of parchment, torn and written on hastily.

"What does James want?" Marlene asked.

Sirius read it, re-read it, perfection crashing down around him.

Marlene leaned close and read it over his shoulder, and she gasped.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

The password was_ sweetroot liquorice_, and James stepped past the stone gargoyle, strode up the moving staircase, and burst into Dumbledore's office.

Dumbledore, Harold Minchum, and Professor McGonagall stood around his desk, pouring over many sheets of parchment. They all turned and stared at him. "Potter," said McGonagall, "what in the world are you doing here at this hour?"

James ignored the question, looked straight at Dumbledore. "Where are they? Where are my parents?"

Confusion was a response rarely captured on Dumbledore's face, but now the old man looked at James with the furrowed brows of bemusement. "They're off on a mission with Caradoc Dearborn. What's the matter, James?"

James growled and strode forward. McGonagall stuck a hand out, keeping him at bay, seeming to sense James' churning coalescence of many erratic emotions. "Potter," she started.

The fireplace lit up, roared and flashed green, and Dedalus Diggle collapsed onto the floor.

They all stared before rushing over to him, James' fear being slowly confirmed hint by little hint.

"Dedalus," said Harold, crouching by the man, "what's wrong? What happened?"

"Dead," croaked Dedalus. "They're all dead."

Dumbledore looked quickly at James before back down at Dedalus. "You need to tell us what happened. Can you do that?"

"It was… a trap… he-" With a last groan, the task proved too much, and Dedalus passed out on the carpet.

Dumbledore took out his wand, placed it to Dedalus' temple, and drew it away. With it came a thin, silvery wisp of something, turning into a strand, before the last of it snapped off from Dedalus' temple and hung from Dumbledore's wand, twirling in the air.

Dumbledore moved swiftly to a shallow stone basin, decorated with strange symbols carved into it, floating in the air by a number of metal instruments. "Come along," he said.

McGonagall and Harold followed him over, and James went too, not caring whether or not the invitation was extended to him. If it hadn't been, Dumbledore gave no hint of it on his face when James joined them by the strange dish - a Pensieve, James realized, as Dumbledore dropped the strand of memory into it and the silvery thread sank and swirled and spun, rippled, and then a sheen spread out over the surface of the Pensieve with moving figures running across it.

"My parents," James murmured.

Dumbledore lowered his head into the bowl, and in a split-second his body shot towards the surface, and he was gone. One by one, they followed him in.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

_A corridor, dirty, dimly lit._

"_I'm not carrying him."_

James looked around. Beside him were McGonagall and Harold. Ahead, Dumbledore stood, arms crossed, watching the scene before them.

_Dedalus lay still on the ground, Sawyer Hughes bending over him, Caradoc Dearborn and Anton Windstrum by his side._

"_We can't leave him with all these Death Eaters, 'Doc," said Anton._

James looked closer at their surroundings.

_Unmoving forms of many, many Death Eaters littered the ground, wands discarded. The walls were singed with missed curses. A fight had taken place here._

"_Look," said Caradoc. He flicked his wand, and Dedalus' body slowly became translucent. A disillusionment charm. "We have to leave him here, now let's go."_

_The three men headed off down the corridor, leaving Dedalus behind. Dedalus groaned, rolled over and blinked up at the ceiling. "Come back," he mumbled._

_For perhaps a minute he lay there, breathing slowly. _

James glanced at the others. They were quiet, seeming content to wait for something more to happen. He heard a noise and looked around.

_Moaning, rubbing his head, a Death Eater with a bruise on his cheek slowly sat up, winced and cursed to himself._

_Dedalus stiffened at the sound. He looked down at his body, took in the fact that he was effectively invisible. At a painstakingly measured pace, he put his hands to the ground and pushed himself up. When he was standing, he moved, still so slowly, tip-toeing down the corridor in the direction that Caradoc, Anton, and Sawyer had headed._

James and the others followed him. _When he was far enough away he sped up_ and they sped up with him, running along the corridor now, reaching an intersection of corridors, and they followed as Dedalus took the sharp left, ran on. They eventually reached _a large room with two open doors. Voices could be heard from beyond one, and Dedalus made his way there, still moving as cautiously as one would if they weren't as good as invisible._

They walked with him to the doorway and looked through.

_A large, brightly lit room, on the far side some steps leading up to a chair. In the center of the room stood Caradoc talking to Rodolphus Lestrange, both men snarling._

But James' attention was on the group standing closer to the door. Sawyer, Anton, the three Ukranians James had met only once. And his parents. His heart lurched inside him as he looked at them. There was confusion on their faces.

_Rodolphus moved his arm, a wand sliding out from his sleeve, and Sawyer yelled, flicked his own wand, blasted Caradoc off his feet just in time for Rodolphus' killing curse to sizzle harmlessly into the wall. Sawyer ran forward and so many things happened at once. Many jets of green light shot through the air, Sawyer hit the ground, dead. Euphenia Potter, her throat slit, gurgled and collapsed, hands clutching her neck, dying in seconds. Fleamont Potter, a knife sticking out of his belly, hit the ground beside his wife. He coughed blood for a few more seconds, blinking, white faced, before his last breath left him._

_One more flash of green light, and Caradoc, too, fell. Dead._

_Dedalus whimpered, shaking, looking like he might collapse against the door frame._

_After a few seconds, the Ukranian who had killed the Potters threw his head back and laughed. "What a relief! I had to pretend I _liked_ those fools. They're much better dead, I think."_

_Anton's wand rose in a flash and a jet of green light hit the man square in the chest._

"_Danylo," roared the other two Ukranians, watching their friend topple and die before he hit the ground._

"_Those were good people," Anton said quietly, lowering his wand. "Better than any of you. I will not allow their lives to be ridiculed." _

"_You'll pay, Windstrum," one of the Ukranians bellowed, raising his wand._

"_You can die, too, then," Anton growled, his own wand rising once again._

"_Calm down," said Rodolphus quickly. "Artem, our precious Blithe is feeling a little sensitive given he just killed all his friends. You must excuse the little princess."  
_

_"You'll all die," Anton snarled, wand waving._

_Dedalus turned on his heel, left the room at the fastest possible pace._

Their surroundings faded until there was nothing, and then-

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

James stepped back from the Pensieve, stumbling, his legs unsteady.

McGonagall rushed over to him, wrapped him in a tight hug. "Oh, Potter!"

Harold was staring into empty space. James' eyes rushed around the room from over McGonagall's shoulder, looking for something, an answer, a solution to the thunderstorm pressing in on his mind. His eyes found Dumbledore.

The Headmaster was completely still for the longest time. When he moved, McGonagall let James go, looked at Dumbledore helplessly. "What do we do, Albus?"

Dumbledore walked over to a portrait of a stern faced woman wearing glasses, who was looking out at them all confusedly. "Find Alastor Moody," he said quietly. "Tell him to floo to my office at once. Then get a message to the rest of the Wizengamot. They are to activate emergency protocol, allowing for Harold Minchum, as Sawyer's number two, to be sworn in as Minister of Magic tomorrow morning."

The lady nodded, and left sideways through the frame of her portrait.

"Albus," McGonagall said again, louder, "what are we doing to _do_?"

Dumbledore waved his wand, and his long hair was tied up into a top knot, his free flowing beard constricted and tied into three sections of silver hair as it went down, stopping now well before his waist. He looked at them, his eyes behind half-moon spectacles bubbling with uncontainable anger, his shoulders setting, and when Dumbledore stood up straight he was the warrior James had heard tales of as a child, he who had defeated Grindelwald at Nurmengard, who no evil could possibly stand against, power, strength, and light radiating from him in waves. "Tonight," said Dumbledore, "we put an end to all this. For good."

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Taureau Barkley opened his eyes, took in the near darkness of the room, and breathed in the much-too-clean air of a hospital.

"And he rises."

He turned his head. On the bed next to his he could make out an ill looking man with a lined face. The man smiled. "You've been out for two whole days, you know."

Taureau looked back up at the ceiling, said nothing.

"You were found in a burning building, I heard. With a dead body."

His stomach lurched. Emmett. He had held the dead body of the love of his life as the building burned and fell around him.

"Apparently the man was dead before the fire, but they couldn't trace the cause of death."

Taureau paused. "What do you mean?" His voice was raspy, but he didn't much care. He'd never really considered himself a conversationalist.

"I don't know," said the man. "That's just what I heard the nurses saying."

"Where are we?"

"A hospital, my friend, and a very good one at that."

"Saint Mungo's?"

"Saint what-now? This is Saint Bartholomew's hospital, my good man. Best around, if you ask me."

"You're a Muggle, then?"

"A what?"

Taureau grimaced, getting the bearing of his situation. "Nevermind. Were my possessions saved from the fire?"

"Possessions? Oh, you mean all that?" The man tilted his head towards a chair by Taureau's bed. On it was his suit, torn in places and washed. Taureau was thankful for that.

"Yes. Anything else?" he asked.

"Yes, your sunglasses and, erm, your stick."

Taureau looked to his bedside table. His wand and Aviator sunglasses, their lenses cracked, lay atop it. The nurses must have thought the wand was something precious to him. Obviously, they were absolutely correct. Nodding to himself and grunting, Taureau sat up slowly.

"Hey, steady on, mate, you just woke up! It's past midnight, I think most of the staff have gone home. You should have a button somewhere to summon a nurse, though."

Taureau ignored him. Throwing the blanket off his body, he manoeuvred his legs off the bed. Each movement hurt, but he pushed past the pain, as it bore no striking resemblance to the suffering of the heart. He stood on shaky feet. Took a breath, closed his eyes, waited for his balance to find him.

"Oi, oi, where are you going?" the man demanded.

Taureau grabbed his wand, and picked his suit up off the chair. "First, I'm going to get changed." And then, to avenge Emmett Fawley, Blithe was… no, _Anton Windstrum_, was going to die. "I must be dressed for this occasion."

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

There was no sneaking, there was no stealth. The time for that had passed.

The ground splintered, cracked under the wand of Albus Dumbledore, and the underground headquarters of the Death Eaters appeared below them, beneath the rubble.

A steady, indomitable stream of Aurors flooded down into the dirty corridor below, Dumbledore amongst them, Alastor Moody amongst them, Harold Minchum, Bartemius Crouch, the full might of the Ministry of Magic in short, and James joined the throng, entered the corridor and stayed close to the biggest players. With them, he knew he would find Anton Windstrum. And when he did…

The Death Eaters unlucky enough to be in the corridor looked around in surprise, were flung into walls and bound, and the stream wasn't slowed in the slightest. The corridor split, and the throng split with it. James followed Dumbledore and Moody. Around bends and corners they went, disposing of any enemies in their warpath. Around one such corner, perhaps a dozen Death Eaters had gathered, waiting. One of them was at the front, and he was huge. Almost as big as Hagrid. Unmasked, his beefy face was the size of a beach ball, with a sinister, crooked-toothed smile that reached up to beady eyes.

"This," said another one of the Death Eaters, "is Koshulynsky. He is an unstoppable force, and I pity you. Koshulynksy, discipline them all, if you please."

The hulking man gave a happy nod and started moving forwards, and Moody barely flicked his wand. Golden light flashed, Koshulynsky went tumbling into the Death Eaters, and after quickly binding the lot of them, Moody, Dumbledore, and James pressed onwards. They progressed in much the same fashion. James didn't lift his wand once. Why bother, with these two flanking him? No, there was only person his torrent of emotions could be vented upon.

The corridor split again, and Moody went one way, Dumbledore the other. James stuck close to the Headmaster, certain that he would be rewarded, certain that as they navigated through this underground maze he would eventually have his target placed before him.

Dumbledore stopped suddenly. Turned to a door beside them, blasted it off its hinges, stepped through. James followed him into a large stone room with archways along the walls leading off into many other rooms and corridors, some of which James recognized from having passed through them.

In the center of the room, scanning the rooms and corridors beyond each of the archways carefully, was Anton Windstrum.

He turned at the opening of the door, froze for a moment when he saw them, before slowly reaching toward his back pocket.

"Don't move," said Dumbledore quietly.

Anton's arm stopped exactly where it was. "Hello, Headmaster." He looked at James and nodded. "Potter."

Looking at him, at the face of his teacher, James felt something, the overpowering urge to make this man feel and understand the depth of pain he had inflicted. James raised his wand finally, slowly.

"You've heard then, I assume," said Anton. "It was Dedalus, wasn't it?" He sighed and shook his head wistfully. "I knew I should have killed him."

"What happened to you, Anton?" said Dumbledore. "This… this is not you. It has never been."

Anton pondered the question, then looked at James. "Do you remember, more than a month ago, the story I told you in my office, James?"

James provided no visual cue, so Anton continued after a few seconds.

"It was a story from my time spent travelling the world. For you're right, Dumbledore. Before I saw the world, I was not like this at all. This world, the _Muggles_," he snarled, "made me like this. I visited a Muggle village with some friends - the village was being terrorized by a chimera."

James remembered the story. Still didn't move.

"My friends and I slayed the beast, and as thanks, the Muggles captured and tortured us. They were afraid of us, you see. I understand that. We were the unknown to them, and nothing is more frightening to a human being. As much as I understand that, it does not change my memories of the horrors I suffered at their hands. They are vile people."

"You know better than to think that, Anton," said Dumbledore.

"No, _you_ must think, Professor. Really think! Why are _we_, the all powerful, why are we the ones who must scurry about in the dark? The Muggles are weak, and dull, yet they are permitted to effectively rule this world. Why?"

"The alternative would be to rule over them."

"And is that not better? Voldemort is a lunatic, believe me, I hold no illusions on that matter. I have no wish to _kill_ all the Muggles. I wish to _save_ them. Look at this world, Dumbledore. I've travelled it extensively. Have you seen what they've done to the environment? To the planet? They've ruined it! And they don't even realize this, or perhaps they simply don't care. It may be decades before they see the error in their ways, by which point it will be much too late. I've visited Japan, Dumbledore. Do you know what the Muggles did there? Have you heard of their nuclear bombs?"

"I have," Dumbledore murmured.

"_Vapourized_. We don't even have a spell for what they did. The horrors they unleash upon each other, it's unthinkable. They _need_ us to take over, Dumbledore. For the greater good!"

There was a look on Dumbledore's face that spoke a great many words.

"Undo the jinx now," Anton said softly. "The anti-disapparition jinx you've cast. Undo it, and let me leave this place."

"You are wrong, Anton," Dumbledore said, his voice low but powerful. "But I have not the time nor the compassion at present to show you the error of your ways. For the murders of Fleamont and Euphemia Potter, Sawyer Hughes, Caradoc Dearborn, Emmett Fawley, and Eugenia Jenkins, you will spend the rest of your life in a prison cell."

"I only killed two of those people personally," said Anton, wrinkling his nose.

"At only twenty three years of age, to have fallen so far from the esteem I once held you in," said Dumbledore, "it saddens me greatly. But you will have no mercy from me."

"It doesn't matter what cell you throw me in," said Anton. "When the war is over, I will only be broken out. And I've already done more than enough to see to it the war will end, and it will end in our favor."

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "Do not think I have forgotten. You have the Muggle Prime Minister under the Imperius curse."

Anton nodded. "I suppose you're going to put a stop to that now. It matters not whether or not we control the Muggle Minister. We have plenty of other plans to seize the country."

"And we will stop all of those plans in due time," said Dumbledore. "For now…" He flicked his wand, and Anton's wand flew from his back pocket into Dumbledore's hand. The old man held it between his fingers for a few seconds, before using both hands to snap it in half. "That should do the trick, I think."

"Well, that was childish," Anton muttered. "Could have just used a counter-curse."

"You have no need of a wand anymore, Anton."

"I suppose," said Anton with a sigh. "Come on, then. I want to see this cell you speak of so highly."

He started walking towards them, and a movement from behind him drew James' eye. From one of the archways, one of the last two Ukranians, Maksym, sprinted towards Anton, eyes blazing, wand raised.

Anton turned in slow motion, wide eyed, and paused when a jet of green light hit Maksym from behind. Maksum tumbled and slid on the ground, dead. Another person stepped through the archway.

"Who _now_?" said Anton exasperatedly.

Taureau Barkley, with his Aviator sunglasses, the lenses of which were cracked, and wearing a torn and rumpled three-piece salmon pink suit, entered the room, walking slowly, as though every step had specific intention behind it.

"Oh," said Anton.

"For killing the love of my life," said Taureau, his voice raspy, "you will die now."

Dumbledore raised his own wand, pointed it at the newcomer. "He is to face the law, Mr Barkley. I assure you there are some who would say his fate is worse than death."

But Taureau shook his head. "There is one person and one person only who will deal justice to this man."

At that, James shifted his wand, pointed it straight at Taureau too. "And you think it's you?"

"This man," said Taureau, "hired me because of my relationship with Emmett Fawley. He knew this would lead you all to believe Emmett to be Blithe - he used me to turn Emmett into his scapegoat! And though I knew all along that Blithe was Anton Windstrum, by telling this to Emmett, I doomed him to be killed by Blithe. I, and I alone, may take vengeance upon him."

"There's plenty of me to go around," said Anton with the ghost of a smirk. "Just form an orderly line, I reckon."

Taureau's patience snapped and his wand flicked and an orb light shot through the air, pulsating, and Anton's eyes widened. Dumbledore had just enough time to stand in front of James and wave his wand and a blinding flash of light filled the room. James' ears popped, waves of air brushed past his face, and after a few seconds the light faded.

Anton Windstrum was nowhere to be seen.

Taureau Barkley looked around the room blankly, his fury being retracted and resorbed into himself until he could look coolly at Dumbledore and James.

"Go in peace," said Dumbledore softly.

Taureau turned, and left the room the way he'd come.

There were many arrests made that night. Yet, although the underground complex was cleared completely, and there had not been a single casualty suffered, and by all means it was a thorough and decisive victory against the Death Eaters, all those present were encumbered by the bitter taste of failure in the air, impossible to shake.


	27. Together

_It is when we are at our lowest point that we are open to the greatest change._

* * *

Days had passed since the burial of Lily's parents.

Grief had countless little rabbit-holes for one to crawl through, and reach the end, only to acquire some new method of wallowing in their crushing loss. And Lily had crawled, and crawled, and crawled.

Then she curled up into a ball one night, face resting on a drenched pillowcase, allowed herself to fill up with every single reason to stay this way forever, covered in blankets that none of the atrocities could breach, and when she was done, she uncurled, and stood.

That was her first step. Every act of overcoming required it, and it would always, always be the most difficult. But difficult was something Lily was used to facing head on and rising above. Difficult had been every day since that first Hogwarts letter.

She watched from her window as the sun rose on the last day of Easter break, and closed her eyes against its rays. She was smiling. Lily was used to smiling in the presence of others. She'd always had to, whether the reaction was genuine or not. It had been rare that a smile was just for herself, but now she found the deed much easier.

She was a mudblood, quite true. Most of her world hated her, while the rest would die because of her. Severus was gone, and her parents much more so.

But it was time for Lily to smile.

Breakfast came and Vernon Dursley's bacon would skitter about on his plate every time he would try to stab it with his fork. It was almost like it had a life of its own. It essentially did, of course. Lily's wand waved under the table, and the bacon jumped to the side again, and Vernon's expression grew in its dumbfoundedness. Again he stabbed, again the bacon flopped away, and the fork clanged against the plate uselessly.

"I say," he muttered.

Lily put a hand over her mouth, fighting back the urge to giggle.

A prank, juvenile and childish. Like this, it was as though James Potter were right beside her, making sure her head was held high and her lips curved upwards.

For she had James Potter. She had Marlene, and Alice, and Frank. With James, whether she liked it or not, came Sirius Black. Remus, and Peter, too. She seldom indulged in braggadocio, but she was quite popular among many of the students. She _knew_ this. Top of her year, and surrounded by friends.

"Petunia, darling, come look at this, would you?"

Her sister walked over to the table, eyebrows raised.

Vernon looked at his plate, then stabbed the bacon cleanly, in one motion. He paused. Stared at the bacon, lifted it with his fork, took a hesitant bite of it. Then he looked at Petunia with something akin to amazement on his red face.

"Well done, dear," she said, patting his shoulder and walking back to the kitchen.

Lily again had to hold back a snigger.

She had let things get bad. Very bad. She could see that now, having emerged on the other side of it all. It was time for her to indulge in her own self far more than she ever had before. Chasing her own happiness must be just as important as that of those around her.

Brightness for once was on the horizon, and she was already happy at the prospect.

Be that as it may, she felt an impatient pang in her chest, completely independent of the past week's developments. Lily could now freely admit that there was another half to her soul, and she would be able to see him again very soon.

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Two boys stood by the graves of Fleamont and Euphemia Potter. As the sun rose, they stood still and silent. As it began to set, they turned, and walked away.

When they arrived back at Potter Manor, Sirius put a hand on James' shoulder. "If you need me for anything…"

"I'll manage by myself," said James. His lip twitched in the makings of a smile that didn't have the strength to form.

"Well, you know where to find me."

Sirius headed off for his room, and James moved on. There were many studies throughout the enormous house that his father had used. The biggest, and James' favourite, was where he had to be. The room had clear floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out on the grounds of the Manor. The garden was bathed beautifully in the red melancholia of afternoon sun.

Assembled in the room already were a handful of witches and wizards with many rolls of parchment, waiting for him.

"Let's get on with it," James said quietly, closing the door behind him.

The witches and wizards burst into chatter, pressing James with noises and words. He was now the proprietor of the entire estate, as well as a number of other smaller residences in the Potter name around the world; three vaults in Gringotts, and all their contents and term deposits, belonged to him; he owned every House-elf in the Manor, and a few House-elves loaned out to some middle class families. There were many payments going out to a variety of accounts for a variety of reasons, all out of generosity. The Potters had owed no one.

"Keep the donations to the Auror Department going," James said. "My father cared deeply about the department. He spent so long making it what it is today."

He walked behind the desk, stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, looked out across the grounds with his back facing the others.

The hedges, the sculptures, the elves… it was all his. A sense of inescapable duty came over James. Responsibility, and an obligation to accept and manifest some dependable authority.

For how much longer could he be who he'd always been? The prankster, the jokester. The marauder. He was struck by overwhelming déjà vu. When he had learned that his father was terminally ill, all those months ago, he had faced much the same dilemma.

_"Padfoot?"_

_"Mhmm?"_

_"We need to do better. Be better."_

Of course he had changed over the course of the past year, he knew that well enough, but was that sufficient? The last Potter, heir to his father's legacy, and his mother's philanthropic and humanitarian endeavours.

He thought he'd have more time to continue changing, and growing. He could never have guessed how suddenly the necessity to change would be thrust upon him. His only consolation in that regard was that his father's death hadn't been dragged out over the years like they had all expected. As violent and awful as it had been, his father had been in pain for only seconds.

Behind him, the others were still talking. He didn't register their words.

Had his changes been sufficient? Had he grown enough as a person to take on all the duty that now lay before him? He couldn't answer the question. These strangers certainly couldn't. He doubted even Sirius would be able to.

There was one person, above all others, whose council he sought. More than that, that one person's very presence would help lift the immense burden dropped onto his shoulders. There was a void in his life, a tangible, caustic void, when she wasn't there. But the Easter break was almost over. He wouldn't have to wait much longer.

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The busy Muggle street throbbed with the pulse of every day life. On a bench, independent of the constant flow of bodies, sat Harold Minchum. He wore a blue dress robe, and a black hat. A few glances would be cast his way from the passers-by, but only fleeting, before they moved on to their safe and blissfuly ignorant lives.

Harold became aware of someone sitting beside him in the very same instant that it happened.

"Good evening, Minister."

He looked quickly, and then tipped his hat to Albus Dumbledore, who wore a rippling purple dress robe in his usual magnificient style. "Evening, Dumbledore. I didn't get a chance to talk to you at the Cremley family's funeral."

Dumbledore hummed. "I expect we'll have an abundance of similar opportunities, my friend. The week is only beginning."

"Caradoc and Sawyer's services were both lively affairs. I'm sure that's what they would have wanted," said Harold.

"I am sure."

Harold let out a breath. "It seems we have a new funeral every day."

"Such is war, dear Minister."

"Minister," said Harold quietly. "I could never have forseen my appointment a mere week ago."

"Much has happened. Has the magnitude of your role sunk in yet?"

"Not quite. Although I have been doing some thinking." He looked at the old man with a grimace. "Have you realized the full extent to which Anton Windstrum played us yet?"

"It dawns on me a little more each day. To what in particular do you refer?"

"He wanted to be the Minister. Not me, not Sawyer. Not Fawley, or Bulstrode, or Eugenia. Him."

Dumbledore looked at him with a frown. "Anton Windstrum wanted nothing to do with the Ministry of Magic."

"That's what he told us, yes. All the while, he convinced us that _Blithe_ was in the Ministry. No, he wanted the job. He just played the long game. I've realized how perfectly he'd positioned himself. Don't you remember, we essentially made him third in line to the throne? Sawyer was our first choice for the job, and then myself. After me, most reluctantly, Anton accepted being the back up to the back up."

"And then," said Dumbledore slowly, "he orchestrated a raid in which Caradoc and the rest of you would infiltrate the Death Eater headquarters, and walk into a trap. You were supposed to be slaughtered with Caradoc and Sawyer."

"And no one was supposed to realize he'd double crossed us," Harold finished. "He would have been made the Minister in a heartbeat."

After a few seconds, Dumbledore looked up at the evening sky. It was getting dark. "He played a masterful game."

"And we payed dearly for it," said Harold heavily. "The loss of the Potters was especially disheartening. Fleamont had just retired."

"It-" Dumbledore's voice caught, the first time Harold had ever heard it do so. "It was most unfortunate."

"The boy, their son, how is he doing?"

Dumbledore tilted his head, and his eyes disappeared behind the white sheen of his half-moon spectacles. "As well as can be expected of him. He is strong."

"Fleamont was a good friend of mine. I don't know the boy myself, though if he's anything like his father then I'm sure he'll be okay."

Dumbledore inclined his head. "Oh, he will. I have no doubt of that. Together, we all will."


	28. Life Goes On

The news that James Potter's parents had passed away, along with some Ministry folk, raced through Hogwarts as soon as term resumed. The stories on how they had died varied, with the majority drawing back to there being a newly appointed Minister of Magic at long last. After that, however, the stories went awry, and strayed far from the truth.

Severus knew exactly what had happened to the Potters. It had been described to him in explicit detail by the very perpetrator. Anton Windstrum, Severus' Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, had really been a Death Eater. The thought amused Severus to no end.

But Severus didn't care about the death of the Potters, not even in the slightest.

News had travelled to Spinner's End, before the end of the break, that Mr and Mrs Evans had been mugged, killed in the street.

It had been shocking, and devastating for Severus to hear. He had been so tempted to make that short trip to Lily's house, to see her, comfort her. But he knew that she wouldn't want him to, as much as it pained him to admit. So he had kept his distance.

He wasn't sure what he'd do when he saw her at school. Poor, poor, beautiful girl. He knew she would be a mess, and longed to help her, for she would certainly need his help. But she wouldn't want it, so he could not give it.

How cruel was the world to stop him from helping her when she would surely need him dearly?

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"Oh, that's good." Lily cleaned the meat off a bone, and picked up the next one. "_So good_."

Alice looked at her amusedly. "Glad to see you've got your appetite back."

"Being an orphan makes me quite hungry, I've found." She ripped meat off with her teeth. "'Tuney disagrees, but what does she know?"

"Well," said Alice, smiling warmly, "I'm quite glad that you and your sister have finally made up."

Alice and Marlene had visited Lily over break, when she was still at the bottom of an immensely deep hole of sorrow, and she could tell they'd been incredibly relieved to see her this morning so buoyant.

"I'm not sure if 'made up' is entirely accurate," said Lily, "but she doesn't seem to hate me anymore, which I could not be happier about."

"And if you're happy, then that's all that-" Alice frowned. "Where's Marlene?"

Lily moved on to the next bone. "Take a guess."

"With Black? Already?"

"Mhm."

"Merlin." Alice sighed, then asked Lily quietly, "Do you think she'll call off her engagement? To the rich bloke?"

"William?"

"Yeah."

"I don't know," said Lily, pausing her feast. The rest of the Great Hall was fairly empty by now, as lunch had started well over an hour ago. She grimaced. "I really hope she does. We can only keep encouraging her, I guess."

Alice nodded. "She should _not_ marry someone just because her parents tell her to."

Lily shrugged. "I won't pretend to understand Pureblood culture. You'd know better than I whether or not Marlene sees that as an option."

"Yeah." Alice looked sad. "I don't think she does."

They ate quietly for a little while. Eventually, Lily finished her meal and held out her hands. Alice waved her wand, and all the grease and little bits of food vanished, leaving Lily's hands spotless, as though taken from under a tap.

"Alright," said Lily, clapping, "now I need to find Potter."

Alice nodded sadly. "You've heard the news?"

"I have. I don't know what on earth the odds are that this could happen to the both of us within the same week, but I need to see him. As soon as humanly possible."

"He might not even be here. He wasn't on the train."

"Neither was Black," said Lily, "but that one's already managed to make himself quite busy. No, the two of them must have Floo'd here. He'll be around." Lily stood and started walking.

"Happy hunting," Alice called after her.

Lily tapped two fingers to her temple in salute.

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Sirius and Marlene looked up at the ceiling. They lay, side by side, on the floor of one of the castle's many secret passageways, one that Sirius knew only someone privy to the secrets of the Marauder's Map could find.

Their hands were intertwined.

"How are you, really?" Marlene asked. "I know you viewed them as your own parents."

"I'm… coping."

She turned her head to him, cheek touching the hardwood floor. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

She leaned forward and kissed his nose. "Good."

"You know, I only ever saw Mr Potter cry once." The ceiling was blank, but Sirius looked up at it like a canvas. "It was the night I ran away. My dad had slashed me up. Cuts all over. Then he got tired of flicking his wrist, so he curled his fingers and made do with his knuckles."

"Fucking bastard…" Marlene's voice was soft, filled with venom and a struggle to comprehend the horror.

"My worthless House-elf, Kreacher, had cleaned my room and found pictures, taken in Fourth Year, of me with a Muggle girl. A nice girl. Catherine. Not a girlfriend by any means, but a decent snog."

Marlene snorted, and stroked the back of his hand with her thumb.

"The beating came soon after. It's funny. James told me, a few weeks into our First Year, after I described to him what it was like at my home, he told me to pack a bag. _Pack a bag, and at Christmas break you're moving into mine. _I knew he meant it. It meant the world. And though I didn't take him up on it then, my bag had been packed since that day. In my room, under my bed. So when my old man was finished imparting his lesson of blood and bruises onto me, I grabbed that bag, and the next thing I knew I was on the doorstep to Potter Manor."

"That must have been so hard to do."

"It…"

_Come with me! Regulus, come with me!_

_I- I don't-_

_Reg!_

"It was hard, yeah. I wish I could say otherwise, but it wasn't an easy decision to make."

"It was the right one, though."

Sirius smiled. "Yeah." His thoughts swirled upon the surface of the ceiling. "So Mr Potter cried that night. I had expected fury, expected him to break down my family's front door and bring his wrath down upon them. Instead, when he opened his own front door, and looked at my bruises and cuts, he snatched me up and held me in his arms the way Orion Black never had. Rubbed my back and cried with me. For me. My father had told me men never cry, never show weakness. We are not sentimental or tender. Everything I know about what it means to be a man, I learned from Fleamont Potter."

"He was a great man," said Marlene, her voice soft.

"Yeah. And the next day was when I glimpsed the fury. After they'd settled me in, gave me a room, made sure I was okay, Mr and Mrs Potter led a team of Aurors into Grimmauld Place. Mrs Potter wasn't even an Auror." He let out a bark of laughter. "But I heard she was fierce. Slapped my mum clean across the face. My father was arrested. Beaten by Mr Potter in a duel that, according to the stories, lasted a matter of seconds. Mr Potter dug up a variety of charges against him, that had been stacked up over the years, as child abuse alone would barely have gotten the man a slap on the wrist. Not a Black, at any rate. My dad wasn't sentenced to many years, but we all suspect he'll die in Azkaban."

"He deserves to," she said quietly.

"Yeah." Sirius grimaced. "He deserves a lot of things."

"_You_ deserved better. To be born into a family who loved and valued you. You deserved a happy home to grow up in, and I wish so much that you could have had it."

"I got it, in the end," he said, smiling. "Not for long, but it was precious, and I'm grateful for it." After some seconds, he turned his head sideways, looked her dead in the eye. "And what about what you deserve from _your_ parents?"

"Sirius…"

"Respect, and the freedom to be with whomever you choose."

"Let's not do this now. I don't want to fight."

"I want to be with you Marlene. I really, really care about you."

"And I really care about you-"

"But you're engaged," he said bluntly. "And only you have the power to change that."

"I _don't _have the power to change it!" He'd upset her, he could hear it and see it on her face. She turned so she was facing him completely. "I've told you a million times! There's nothing that I can do, and you have to accept that!"

"Marlene-"

"End of discussion." She rolled back, faced the ceiling again. Then, in a softer voice, "Drop it, Sirius. At least for now. Alright?"

He took a breath, tried to roll all his frustration into that ball of air, and let it out. "Okay."

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Lo and behold, Lily found James in the library of all places. His head was down, his quill working furiously. He only looked up when she sat across from him, and his eyes widened.

"Evans..." He dropped his quill. "I heard about your parents. I'm so, so-"

"And I've heard," she said, louder, "it's something that we have in common."

He looked at her for a moment, then nodded. "It seems fate has a sense of humor, to have us orphaned together."

She nodded, lips lifting. "We really get to share the experience, don't we?"

"We do." They held each other's gazes. James' eyes were soft. "How are you finding it?"

"Devastating. Crushing. You?"

"About the same, really. But life goes on."

Lily looked at the textbooks and parchment before him. "So it does. I see you're making yourself busy?"

"Quite."

"It's most unlike you. James Potter, willingly abiding in the library? It certainly must be the end of days."

"These days, Evans, I've been thinking the more unlike me something is, the better."

That caught Lily off guard. "What do you mean?"

"With the utmost reluctance, I've decided to grow up, Evans. It's what my parents would expect of me."

"Grow up?"

"We're almost in our seventh year, and it's time I started acting like it. I need to take my studies seriously, spend my money wisely. My future, and the legacy of my family, now sits squarely upon my shoulders."

His expression was sombre, as though his mind was made up about something incredibly complex. Lily snorted. "Potter, you're an idiot."

"What?"

"You already have changed. Plenty."

"It's not enough-"

"It's more than enough. You're kind and brave. Funny and caring. You now take your studies seriously, and you've started tutoring the younger students for goodness sake! You've matured, and people have noticed it. They've started looking up to you, and not just as someone they think is cool, but as a leader. You're quite possibly the most popular boy in the school-"

"Quite obviously, rather," he mumbled.

"And apart from some residual _arrogance_," she gave him a look, "I find myself struggling these days to criticize you in even the slightest way."

James rested his chin on his palm and looked at her intently. "I've decided to stop pranking, and to make a conscious effort to break less rules."

Lily shrugged. "You've barely done any pranks at all this year to begin with. And if you want to break less rules, I'm the last person who's going to complain. I like those ideas. That aside, you need to go easier on yourself, Potter. Accept that you're good enough as you are. A year ago? Perhaps not. But right now, there's not a thing about you that I would change."

He was smiling now. He lifted his chin from his palm and closed his textbooks, rolled up his parchment, stuffed it all in his bag. "Come on, Evans. Let's get out of here."

She grinned. "You're convinced?"

"Yeah, you've sold me. If I am to keep being myself, we have to leave the library at once. This place makes me nauseous."

"What do you have in mind, then?" She fell in beside him as they walked from the library.

"Not sure. I'll leave it up to you."

Though she found his resolution to improve himself laughable, for she could think of very few ways now to improve upon the messy haired boy walking next to her, Lily was also reminded that she'd made resolutions of her own over the past week. "Potter?"

"Yes?"

She bit her lip. "Let's break some school rules."

He raised his eyebrows. "Evans, have you listened to a word I've said?"

"Of course. But I think getting up to some mischief will be good for you. And I've been thinking, lately, of exploring my as yet untouched mischievous side. Because I never have, really. It will be good for _me_. We both win."

"Evans," James said, frowning but looking amused all the same, "I get the feeling that you're going to be a bad influence on me."

She nudged him. "Oh, what is the world coming to?"

A few other students walked through the corridor. One in particular, walking in their direction, was awfully familiar to Lily. With his greasy black hair, sallow skin, and hooked nose, Lily realized it had been quite some time since she'd last met eyes with Severus Snape. As he approached, she looked at him intently, holding his eyes with force. But he looked back at her with cold aloofness, then looked away as simply as though she were a passing cloud, before he passed the two of them and was gone.

Lily and James walked on in silence for a few moments, before James spoke up. "I think he's looking quite handsome, if I'm being honest."

Lily snorted, and a thin layer of unease and sadness, forming within seconds inside her, shattered and cascaded down. She smiled and shoved him. "Shut it, Potter."

"I'm only saying, Evans, I might have misjudged him. That pasty skin really brings out his eyes."

Lily shook her head. James had been right in saying there were parts of him that hadn't fully changed yet, but she reckoned she quite liked those parts. She could recognize them now as the parts that had drawn her to him when he was still an arrogant little sod in the first place.

"And the hook of his nose, Evans, it's so charmingly curved I might hang my coat on it!"

They were the parts that made her laugh.

"Not to mention his hair. Oh, his hair! He-"

"Alright, Potter," said Lily, forcing herself to be at least somewhat stern. "Insults disguised as compliments are still mean."

"I was wondering how much you'd let me get away with," he said, grinning at her.

"As entertaining as your sarcastic wiles are, one does get bored of them quite quickly."

"Bored?" He looked scandalized. "Are you sure you don't mean enamoured?"

"Quite sure, yes."

"Well, I don't believe that." He then paused for a moment as they climbed the stairs to the third floor, before looking at her inquisitively. "So what's brought this on from you?"

"What?"

"Exploring your '_as yet untouched mischievous side'_. What on earth could motivate you to do something as well belated and common-sensical as that?"

"Common-sensical?"

"Yes, Evans, to invoke common sense."

She raised an eyebrow. "Right. Well, I've made it part of my grieving process. I'm going to take every excuse to chase my own happiness, whatever that might entail."

"Sounds exciting."

"Oh," she bit her lip, "I'm excited. Where are we going, anyway?"

"Right on cue," said James.

He stopped walking abruptly. They were halfway down a corridor, and Lily looked both ways, utterly bemused.

"On cue for what?"

"Hush, Evans," he said softly. He was looking at a statue with a weird glint in his eye. "You're about to learn something that very, very few students who've ever roamed these corridors ever did."

"And what's that?"

He looked at her. "Enforcing the rules. Bringing order. Making sense out of madness. In short, the jobs of the Prefects and teachers. All of it is obsolete."

"Erm..."

"Hogwarts is a place of _chaos_. Mischief, mayhem, madness - they might as well be the school motto! This castle is _alive_, Evans. It wants us to break the rules, craves it even."

"Potter, I have very little clue what you're talking about."

He tapped his wand to the statue. It was a one-eyed witch, hump-backed and hunched over, grotesque to look at. "_Dissendium_."

With a creak, the hump slid open, revealing a short slide descending into darkness. Lily stared, wordless.

"Leads to Hogsmeade. One of the fastest ways to get there. But this isn't what I meant in saying this is something very few students will ever learn. It's the fact that Hogwarts is a place in which the rules were made just to be broken. That is one thing, if nothing else, that I've learned at this school. In fact-"

He stepped up to the statue, got his legs down the slide, and plummeted into the depths. Lily didn't hear the rest of his sentence. She gasped, looked left and right again down the empty corridor, completely taken aback. She stepped up to the statue, peered down.

"Potter?"

Her voice echoed the slightest bit, but she could make out no other sound. She shook her head and stepped back. Then she gritted her teeth and stepped forward again. Slowly getting her legs down the shute, she sat there for a moment, looking around the corridor. With a trembling heart, she realized that this was her life now.

She let go.

Air hurtled past her face, and the darkness became a tangible force pressing against her until suddenly there was nothing and then there was light, and the breath left her lungs as a pair of arms received her and pressed her tight into the chest of James Potter before she could register reaching the end of the slide.

"In fact," he continued, his wand held up and shining with blinding light, "Hogwarts is a place where we should _learn_ to break the rules." He looked down at her, their faces closer than they'd been in weeks. "Magic is inherently chaotic. Learning it in a controlled environment is ludicrous. It thrives in the murky depths of madness. I've broken the rules over the years in such a dedicated fashion because to me, that's what being here is all about. Prefects and rules are an outside observer's attempt to reign in this castle's desire to procure and cultivate brilliance."

He pulled away then, and, still holding his wand aloft, linked arms with her and began to walk. Around them were the dusty walls of a tunnel, and she was glad he'd linked their arms, as she wasn't a great fan of the idea of being lost or trapped down here.

Their shoulders brushed as they walked, and James continued talking. She looked at him from time to time, enjoying the passion he displayed.

"It's something that very few people will discover. The moving staircases don't play tricks on us just for laughs. The will of this castle aligns with the will of those within it. I genuinely believe that. Have you ever been to the Forbidden Forest, Evans?"

"Not without teacher supervision," she said.

"Because it's forbidden, right?"

"Well, and it's dangerous."

"It's not-"

"I've heard there are all manner of dangerous creatures. Banshees, werewolves. Not exactly alluring for me."

James hesitated. "Okay, you definitely shouldn't go anywhere near the forest. But my point is, it's there for a reason. It serves a purpose, just like every other little detail all over these grounds."

"Sure."

"And it saddens me when attempts are made to snuff out the will of this castle. Now Dumbledore, he gets it. If anyone understands this castle, and what it wants, he does."

Lily raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Of course. He's the head authority figure, sure, but he understands how important it is to let Hogwarts be Hogwarts. Let the will of the castle be carried out. It took Sirius, Remus, Peter, and I years upon years to discover all of Hogwarts' little secrets, and I still suspect we've missed a few. Not many, mind. But perhaps one, maybe even two. And that thought exhilerates me. The saddest thing in the world would be for every secret of Hogwarts to be laid bare." The tunnel twisted and turned, rose and fell, and the two maintained a consisent pace as they walked. "But what we _do_ know took us an immense amount of time and hard work to discover. And Dumbledore knows all about it."

"All about what?"

"Our efforts to learn it all."

She frowned. "What?"

"Back in second year, when Sirius and I discovererd that Remus is… Remus is an interovert, we-"

"Took you a while."

"Yes." He cleared his throat. "It took us a year, but once we realized he was introverted, all four of us suddenly became somthing akin to brothers. It's a long story-"

"I'd love to hear it."

"Too long. But once we all came together, we set about traipsing around the castle, learning as much as we could. And as you'd expect, we ran into Dumbledore a fair few times. At least in the earlier years."

"He knows about your Invisibility Cloak?"

James frowned. "How do _you_ know about that?"

"You showed me at Christmas."

"Hm." He looked annoyed with himself.

"Wish you'd held onto the secret?"

"Well, yeah. Much less fun when someone knows. Particularly a Prefect."

"I'll try to forget it."

"Please. Now, when we ran into Dumbledore, rather than punish us for breaking the rules, he actually sat us down and educated us!" She looked at him, and he was grinning. "Everything I've come to understand about Hogwarts is from Dumbledore. He really, truly understands it. He even showed us some techniques we could employ to increase our chances of stumbling upon passageways like this very tunnel. It's all about understanding the castle, and it's _art_, Evans. It's beautiful art."

She looked at him carefully. "If you feel so strongly about this, then why stop? Why do you want to start obeying the rules and act responsibly?"

James hesitated. "Because I think I've had my fill. Maybe it really is just because my parents died, but I think there's also a duality to the way Hogwarts throws chaos at us. It's designed to improve us, make us better witches and wizards. And, in time, it will make us grow."

She stared at him, once again at a loss of words for the ways in which James Potter's brain worked.

"And far too few people will ever understand that."

Eventually, they emerged from the tunnel into the cellar of Honeydukes. Lily had been alarmed to realize that they were essentially breaking into the sweet shop, but James hushed her quickly, and they kept low and quiet as they snuck out of the shop and onto the quiet Hogsmeade street.

"Fancy a butterbeer?" James asked, as they walked aimlessly down the cobbled street.

Lily smiled at him. Their arms were still entwined. "Sure."

The Three Broomsticks was near emtpy, and no one spared James and Lily any second glances. They were still in their Muggle clothes, after all. The two found an empty table near the back, and when James returned from the counter with two full glasses of butterbeer the teens clinked them together and knocked them back.

Lily kept an eye on James as she drank. These past few weeks hadn't been easy, and she had every reason to believe the weeks ahead would remain relatively dark. But it was nice to have a light, irremoveable and decidedly irreplaceable, that she knew would be by her side every step of the way.

She smiled against the glass on her lips.

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With the Snitch caught and the Quidditch Cup presented, James flew down to the stands and found Sirius first.

"Nicely done, Prongs," said Sirius, thumping him on the back. "What was your personal haul, ninety points?"

"Just about. I missed a few easy ones, but we did alright I think."

"Another Quidditch Cup under your belt is more than alright, I reckon." Sirius paused as a third year stopped to congratulate James, then grimaced. "Just one more, and then we're done."

James nodded, looked out towards the Quidditch pitch. The grass, the hoops. The stands, and sky. "This is the second to last Quidditch Cup I'll ever compete for. We're getting old, Padfoot."

"That we are."

"And things are changing at a startling pace."

"Such is the way of things. Regardless of whether or not we're ready, or whether or not we want it to, life will, as resolutely and unforgivingly as always, move on."

James clapped his best friend on the back, and together they looked at the sky. He knew they were thinking of the same thing. The same two people. "Life goes on."

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Blinding, searing, bubbling agony. "Get away," Remus screamed.

"Hold his arms," James muttered.

Sirius grabbed Remus' arms, held them tight, while Peter held his legs.

"You don't understand! It's coming!"

"It's okay, Remus," said James, holding a damp cloth to his forehead. "It's going to be alright."

"It's going to kill you!"

"You say that every month, and every month we-"

"Argh!" Remus slumped back, felt his eyes roll back into his head. He couldn't see anymore. Felt the wall against his head. The Shrieking Shack's walls were thin, the paper peeling in places from claw marks, dented all over. He tried to speak, tried to warn them, but couldn't find his voice.

There was a monster inside him, and it was coming.

He heard James sigh, and fall back. "I hate seeing him like this."

"Yeah." That was Sirius. "This is my least favorite part, every month. Seeing Remus' composure, his rationality completely drained from him, it's…"

"It's awful," said Peter.

They didn't understand. It was coming.

"At least he doesn't have to do it alone anymore," said James quietly.

Sirius hummed. Then, "Oi, Prongs, what's going on with you and Evans? Are you not together?"

"We've reached an understanding, I think. Neither of us really know where we're at, but it's nice. At least for now."

"That actually sounds alright. With McKinnon, I don't know how much longer I can-"

Remus screamed, roared, felt his voice crackle and split, higher and higher until he was howling, howling at the roof, the sky, howling at the moon as his skin split and tore, agony engulfing him and-

"Here it is, boys," said James. "Get ready."

-the sprouting of claws, fangs, hairs, his jaw popping and dislocating and relocating, his joints grinding against each other, bones churching, growing, his gums splitting and gushing blood that tasted so sweet on his tongue, and he howled and he howled and he-

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The sunlight streaming into the Common Room through the window fell onto the side of Lily's face, warming her up as she read her book. Opposite her, Frank and Alice cuddled on a chair. Some of their friends found the two nauseauting, but Lily could never help herself from finding them sweet together.

"Have you heard from Petunia recently?" asked Alice.

Lily nodded. "We've decided to go ahead and sell the house. Neither of us would feel quite right living there. Not without Mum and Dad. It's best that we sell it."

"That can't have been an easy decision to make," said Frank.

"It wasn't. But I'm glad we got there."

"And I'm glad your relationship is in a position where the two of you can make any decisions together at all," said Alice.

Lily smiled at her. "Me too."

She went back to her book then, and Frank and Alice returned their attention to each other. They whispered, and Alice giggled, her hand on his chest. Try as she might to be annoyed, Lily could only be happy for the two. To find someone, care so deeply for them, and have that feeling returned, could only be something to be celebrated.

She looked out the window, toward the sun that seemed to twinkle a little bit extra, just for her. Of course she had that someone. But, at least just then, she wasn't in any sort of rush.

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Marlene put a hand to Sirius' cheek, her eyes narrowed. "Where did you get these cuts?"

"The Forbidden Forest," he answered truthfully.

"How?"

"Frolicking."

"Does it have anything to do with why James was in the Hospital Wing this morning?"

"Was he? I didn't know."

"Mhm."

"He seemed perfectly healthy to me."

"Okay, Black. Be mysterious."

They were in a broom cupboard, but simply sat against the wall and held hands. Of late, there had been much less sex and much more talking, and as unbelievable as he might once have thought it, Sirius found that he didn't mind at all.

"So what happens to Potter Manor?" she asked.

"James owns it. Bizarre to think about, but I can see him being a very good master of the house."

"And you?"

"I talked about it with him. I'll want to move out at some point in the future, though I'm not sure when. I might have to take up a job, as my folks obviously don't send me any money. James is vehemently against the idea. I think in his mind we were going to live together until we were old men fighting with our walking sticks."

"I think that's incredibly sweet."

"It's incredibly _James_."

"So where do you think you'll work?"

"No clue. Honestly, I might not even have to. Did I tell you about my Uncle Alphard?"

"The cool one, who the rest of your family hates?"

"The very same. He's the only adult in my family I have a positive relationship with, and I'd always suspected that I'm one of the only family members that _he_ gets on with too. I got a letter from him the other day. He reckons he's dying."

"Oh, that's awful, Sirius."

"Nah, he's been threatening to die for the past ten years. This time I think it's real, but I've long since made my peace with it." There was a small grin on his face. "It won't be easy, especially with all that's happened, but it was a long time coming. He wasn't looking great the last time I saw him. I want for him to go out before it gets worse. He's the sort to prefer holding his head high right through to the end, rather than kick and scream his way to his deathbed. Anyway, he says I've got a hefty inheritance coming my way. He seemed quite vindictive about it, too. He knows how much it will tick off my mother."

Marlene laughed softly. "I'd love to meet him."

"He'd love that, too." Sirius paused then, and turned to look at her. She met his gaze, and held it. Sirius chewed on his words before he uttered them, felt their weight, their implications, and their consequences. "I love you."

She froze.

"And I'm sorry, Mar, but I can't wait anymore. I want to be with you."

"Think about what you're saying," she said quietly.

"Marlene-"

"_Think about what you're saying!_" Her eyes were thunderous. "You're asking me to break off my engagement with William!"

"Well, do you love him?"

"I…"

"Then why in the world would you marry him?"

She glared. "You're a Pureblood too. You know full well how little of this is my choice."

"_All of this_ is your choice! Mar, how can you let your parents decide this for you?"

"I'm doing it _for_ my parents. For my family! A lot of money is involved, and it's bigger than you and me!"

"Do you love me?"

"What?"

"I love you. Do you love me?"

"I-It doesn't matter-"

"Of course it does! What are we doing here, Marlene?" Sirius gestured between them. "What is this? If you're set on getting married to another man, is this just a tiny bit of fun? A prelude to your marriage? Something that was never going to be serious, and has no meaning?"

"No!"

"Then why-"

"Yes."

Sirius froze. "What?"

Marlene stood. Sirius stood with her. Her eyes were wet. He reached out, and she moved towards the door. "It has to be nothing. I don't want it to be, but… I'm getting married Sirius, and that isn't going to change. I thought you understood that."

"I did. But I can't accept it anymore. It would be too painful. I love you. It's a _need_, it means anything less is physically painful for me!"

Tears pooled now in her eyes, but still didn't fall. "I know." She opened the door, and light spilled into the broom cupboard, dispelling the darkness and musty air and whatever fragile, special thing that had resided within that place, drifting out and thinning and vanishing into the air. "This was always going to have to end at some point, and I think we've reached that point."

"You're really doing this," Sirius said quietly, not believing the words.

"I'm sorry, Sirius. But that's just the way it has to be."

The door closed after her, and he was left alone in the darkness. Empty.


	29. The Sleeping Dragon

"Minister," said a voice in German, "you have a visitor."

Huldrich Ehre barely looked up from the parchment in front of him. "Send him in."

The German Minister of Magic had weathered the storm of an especially trying day, and was quickly growing tired of entertaining his visitors. It didn't help that they seldom had anything nice to say. His heavy frame, built more for battle than for signing his approval of department budgets, creaked the chair beneath him as he leaned back and scratched a jumble of sad blond hair that had once been luscious.

The door opened, and he looked up with tired eyes at his latest visitor. It was a man, young and handsome, with hair of brightest blond and the eyes of someone about to tell a joke. "I am sorry to interrupt your work, Minister."

His German was imperfect. Huldrich tilted his head. "Your accent, is it British?"

"It is indeed."

"I do not particularly trust the British, of late." The visitor didn't seem sure how to respond, and Huldrich gestured to the chair opposite him. "Please, sit." When the man was seated, Huldrich steepled his fingers and leaned forward. "How may I help you?"

"I am very interested in all that you have accomplished, Minister. You have been on the cover of the Daily Prophet's _Wizards of The Year_ for two consecutive years, after all. Your work around Muggleborn rights is being admired by the higher-ups in London, in the hopes of replication."

Huldrich simply inclined his head in response.

"You popularized the idea of a 'Muggle-born revolution' in your national address last year - that more and more Muggle-borns are rising up to stand alongside Purebloods as equals. Though you are a Pureblood yourself, people see you as a leader of this revolution, alongside the likes of Albus Dumbledore, and the late Eugenia Jenkins. However, some small things do not quite make sense to me. You acknowledge that Muggle-borns are being empowered within magical society, and purport that we are closer than ever before to equality, but I am afraid I do not comprehend the correlation."

Huldrich regarded the man shrewdly. "It is not difficult to comprehend."

"Minister, look at the world as a whole. Wizards and Witches live in _hiding_. That is not equality."

"If we were in the open, the natural progression is a complete magical takeover of society. That would be far worse. While now we must simply hide in the shadows, the alternative would be to crush the Muggles under our heel."

"You seem to think that is not an inevitability," the man snapped. He sat a little straighter. The unsureness left his eyes like it had never really been there. "After two world wars, their technology has come incredibly far. One day an unwitting Wizard will be caught on their cameras and his face will be on every television screen in the world. Their shiny new weapons of mass destruction will be turned on us in an instant. And then what?"

"They will never use nuclear weapons on us," Huldrich said, shaking his head. "There would be no way for them to prevent harm to their own people."

"You think they care?" cried the man, jumping to his feet. "Look at what they already do to their own people! Japan! Vietnam! Auschwitz! The Muggles are savages, dear Minister. They derive pleasure from the infliction of pain. Pride from subjugation."

"And you think we are any better?" Huldrich asked quietly. Slowly, he rose to his feet. "House-elves live only to serve us. Giants are almost extinct, dragons live almost exclusively in captivity. Centaur meat is a delicacy in most countries."

"Giants and dragons _have_ to be few and far between, just so Muggles may be kept in the dark," the man roared. "Because we live in hiding, magical creatures are forced to suffer! I have travelled far across the world, Minister. I have seen so much suffering. We can end it all by taking over."

"You're a bigot," Huldrich spat. "Believe me, I have encountered these arguments many times over the course of my career, and I will no doubt encounter them many more still. By 'taking over', we will only put Muggles into the same disadvantageous positions our magical creatures are in now. Believe me, I do all I can to protect magical creatures. This status quo is not perfect by any means, but every day we move closer towards a _better one_. We must remain in hiding. We live in relative peace because we live in the shadows, allowing the Muggles to live blissfully unaware."

"Blissfully unaware," the man repeated softly. "In English, we have a word for that. You might know it. _Blithe_."

Huldrich froze. His eyes narrowed. "You…" he said softly. "You are the man they are talking about in the papers."

"Blithe is indifference. Blithe is carelessness." Anton Windstrum stepped closer to Huldrich's desk, leaned against the polished wood. "Blithe is oblivion."

"Guards," called Huldrich. His breath almost caught in his throat.

"All dead, unfortunately. They recognized me. Sharp bunch, though I suppose I am something of a fugitive these days." He titled his head. "I must say, it is nice to be home. Did you know I am German? My parents were, anyway. Big Grindelwald supporters, too. When he fell, they moved to England, and," he grimaced, "learned to love Muggles. They like the television, I think. Their past used to embarrass me, until I left school and started travelling. I became enlightened. This world will be a better place. For the greater good."

Huldrich slowly lowered himself back into his chair, and once more steepled his fingers over his desk. "Why are you here?"

Windstrum gestured vaguely. "Take over the country, strike fear into the hearts of men, all sorts of dastardly villainous things. I don't have much of an appetite for most of it, so I take the fun jobs when I can. Such as this." Footsteps drew near from the other side of the door. Windstrum went to open it, and looked back at Huldrich as he twisted the handle. "Huldrich Ehre, I would like to introduce you to the Dark Lord. He has been _dying_ to meet you."

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Lily's thoughts whirled and pranced, did the waltz around her head for a few minutes, before she rode them to the end of their rope, and she put the letter down. "Shit."

"What?" asked Marlene, her fork halfway to her mouth. "Is it your sister? Is she being a nutcase again?"

"It's my sister, but she's being quite kind, actually. It's…" Lily looked around the Great Hall, perhaps for some way to summate her thoughts, then back to Marlene. "You know how we're selling our family house, seeing as neither of us wants to live there without our parents?"

"Yeah."

"We have a buyer."

Marlene paused. "That's… great?"

"It is, yeah. Except the family that's buying it wants to move in by some time around," Lily grimaced at somewhere above Marlene's head, "now."

"Now?"

"Right now, yeah."

"As in…"

"As in, right now as we speak, they are there. To live."

Marlene brought the fork to her mouth and bit. Then she crunched her breakfast for a few moments, lowered her fork, and swallowed. "You don't have a home."

"I don't have a home."

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Alice frowned. "I don't get it. Just stay with one of us."

"No," said Lily forcefully. "Stop asking."

The three girls sat in the shade of the tree by the lake. Alice stared at Lily, not for the first time wondering what in the world was going on in the girl's head. "You know Marlene or I would love to have you. My parents love you, and Marlene's…"

"They tolerate you," said Marlene, nodding. "But we have plenty of room, so they can't complain."

"I'm not staying with either of you, for the same reason I'm not taking up Petunia on her offer to stay with her. I appreciate all offers very much, but I won't have any of it."

Alice turned to Marlene in exasperation. "She complains about Potter being full of himself all this time, and she's every bit as bad."

"Prideful," said Marlene. "To a fault."

"A big old fault."

"So, what's the plan, then?" Marlene asked. "You going to live on the streets?"

"I'm going to work during the break to pay my lodgings somewhere else."

"Why?" Alice asked. "Just so you can say that you didn't rely on your friends when you were in a tough spot? That's all?"

"That's not all," Lily muttered.

"That's all," said Marlene.

"It is not."

"Lily…" Alice rubbed her eyes, "you're exhausting."

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James reflected upon how the four boys had actually never intended to be known as the '_Marauders_'. Their precious map's title, as Remus had frustratedly ranted about in their dormitory shortly after they'd first heard the term being used by other students, "_has an apostrophe before the _S_ for Merlin's sake! Otherwise we would have called it The Marauders' Map!_"

Peter had then shamefacedly confessed that, after failing to quite wrap his head around apostrophes for plurals, he had blabbered to a great number of students about how he and his infamous three best friends would henceforth be known as the Marauders.

And so the Marauders they were.

Giving themselves a name, James reckoned, had further bolstered their celebrity within the school. Their influence, and the admiration and envy they received, ballooned out of control. And though he no longer found that as thrilling as he once did, it wasn't as though he could suddenly undo it all.

"Come on, Potter, two minutes."

"I'm trying to eat my breakfast, Tarkin."

"It's almost lunch," cried the other boy determined to annoy James that morning, Thorpe.

James looked up from his generously buttered toast and scowled at the two. "Do you think I don't know that?"

"Let's just hear them, Prongs," said Sirius. His plate was relatively full too, and he looked just as impatient. "They'll go away sooner."

"Exactly," said Tarkin excitedly.

"But that will just validate annoying me all morning as a way to get my attention," James said, wrinkling his nose.

Remus sighed. "What if _I_ listen to them, and you just ignore them and continue eating your breakfast? Will that make you happy?"

James deliberated on this for a few seconds, before nodding and wordlessly turning to his food.

Remus looked at the two boys. "How can we help you two today?"

James tuned them out completely, and focused on his meal. Tarkin and Thorpe were fifth years, if his memory served him right. They were likely popular enough among their peers, but James had no patience for them. Both of the blond haired and blue eyed boys were rather eager to please, and much too talkative for James' liking.

"We're the leaders of the Performing Arts Club," said Thorpe, "and we didn't get many new members this year so we want to do a show to try and showcase how fun it is, and if _the Marauders_ were to be there-"

"No," said Sirius. "Now that we've settled the matter, you can leave us in peace."

"But-"

"I said _no_."

After a moment of looking at the expression on Sirius' face, unreasonably ferocious with gleaming eyes, the two hung their heads in defeat and left. It occurred to James how poor of a mood Sirius had been in recently. When he'd told James that he and Marlene had split up for good, James hadn't quite anticipated how much it would affect his friend. James realized he had underestimated the depth of the relationship between Sirius and Marlene.

It made James' plan for the rest of the day somewhat awkward.

"I don't want to," said Sirius venomously, as the four boys walked by the Great Lake.

Ahead was the tree that, on any given sunny day, one could always find students lounging under, wishing to sit in the shade by the lake with their friends. It was one of the school's most sought after hang-out spots, and presently James knew it was exactly where a certain redhead and her friends would be.

Remus rolled his eyes. "You and Marlene breaking up doesn't mean we can't still hang out with the girls."

"Yes it does," said Sirius immediately. "It will be uncomfortable. The wound is still raw, and-"

"Padfoot, being around her more often will be good for you," said James. "Like closure."

"You just want to see Evans."

"Yes, I absolutely do."

"That's a conflict of interest right there."

"I don't think that's what a conflict of interest is."

"No, he's right," said Peter. "It's a conflict of interest."

"Don't you go agreeing with him, Pete," James warned. "He's wrong."

"It is a conflict of interest," Remus muttered.

"Look," James huffed, "I also want to see Marlene and Alice. Marlene's my Chaser, and Alice is my ex."

"It's always strange to hear that," Peter mused.

They came upon the tree by the lake, tall and offering a wide berth of shade, but no girls sat under it. There were instead a few fourth years playing Gobstones, and James turned to his friends, frowning hard. "I checked the map not ten minutes ago. She was here."

"Girls," said Sirius, shaking his head. "We can never get it right, eh, Prongs? They think it's cute to be unpredictable. I guess we're in the same boat."

"Yes, Padfoot," said James distractedly as he looked about. "Exactly the same."

"They must have gone back inside for lunch," said Peter. "It's around that time."

"That must be it," said James, lighting up. "You know, even though I just stuffed my face, I'm actually starting to feel quite hungry. What do you guys reckon?"

"I am extremely full," said Sirius stiffly.

Remus raised his eyebrows. "I didn't think I'd ever hear those words from your mouth, Padfoot."

"Alright," said James, clapping his hands. "We're all hungry, then. Let's be going-"

"Potter!"

James beamed and whirled around. "Alright, E- erm, McGonagall?"

Professor McGonagall paused before the four students, with Professor Sprout a few steps behind her, looking through some sheets of parchment. "Yes, I am fine, Potter, thank you. I simply wish to congratulate you all. Your sixth year has come to an end, and there have been no childish practical jokes played upon your classmates. You have all grown up by a significant amount over the past year, and I could not be more proud." She paused, then nodded curtly. "As you were."

She walked off with Professor Sprout in the direction of the green houses, and Sirius turned to the boys. "What was that about?" A few moments of clueless silence. Then, "She… I think she's challenging us. Am I right? She just challenged us."

Remus looked concerned. "You know what? I actually think she might be."

"Why?" James asked, scratching his head. "I suppose this _is_ our last week of sixth year, and she knows that we always do an end of year prank. And she knows that we know she knows it. But why would McGonagall ever want us to do a prank?"

"Is it like a dare?" asked Peter hesitantly. "As if to say we don't have the audacity?"

Sirius shook his head. "Minerva, Minerva, Minerva."

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Lily stopped by the entrance to the greenhouse and cleared her throat. "You wanted to see me, Professor?"

Professor McGongall was peering down at an assortment of potted plants, and she glanced up briefly at the sound of Lily's voice before turning to Professor Sprout on her other side. "These will do just fine, Pomona. Ms Evans, good afternoon. I trust you are well?"

"I'm alright, Professor," said Lily. "And you?"

"Quite fine." McGonagall joined Lily at the greenhouse entrance and paused. "Have you had lunch yet?"

"No, not yet."

"Walk with me to the castle, then, Ms Evans."

"Okay," said Lily slowly. McGonagall had never struck her as a conversationalist, nor the type to seek company. She wondered if she was in some sort of trouble.

After they'd made some progress upon the path leading up to the castle, McGonagall spoke again. "There are a few matters I must discuss with you, Ms Evans. Primarily of monetary concern."

Lily's stomach knotted. The words'monetary concern' were rarely uttered in fun conversations. "Right."

"It has come to my attention that you will not have a home, come the end of term."

Lily blinked rapidly. "How…"

"Gossip moves blindingly fast in this castle, Ms Evans."

"But I've barely known for a _day_."

"Blindingly fast."

"Right." Lily grimaced, and looked sideways at her teacher as they walked. "So…"

"I have no doubt that your friends have offered you their homes for the summer break?"

"They have, yeah."

"I also have no doubt that you rejected their offers."

Lily frowned. "What makes you so sure?"

"I have been the Head of Gryffindor House for many years, Ms Evans. I am quite familiar with students who have more pride than they often know what to do with."

"Right," said Lily again, looking away.

"There is no shame in accepting kindness, Lily."

"It's not that," Lily said quickly. "It's not shame."

McGonagall didn't respond.

"Sure, maybe a small part of me is too prideful to accept their offers, but… that's not the main reason. I don't know. There are a lot of reasons. My parents just died. I wouldn't feel right, going to Alice's or Marlene's, bringing my sadness to their home and joining their family at the dinner table, like some sort of imposter, or trespasser. I want a place that feels like _home_."

"A home can be many things to many people. Expecting any place to immediately feel like what you have lost is a difficult task."

"There's more," said Lily. "I don't… Their families are whole. Happy. Happy enough, at any rate. As happy as one can be, given that they're at least alive. I think it would be painful for me, stepping into a complete unit and standing on the outside, looking in. I reckon I've gotten quite far through my personal grieving process, but I don't think I'm in a place yet where I can stomach something like that."

Again, McGonagall didn't say anything.

"Petunia offered to let me stay at hers over break," Lily said, wrinkling her nose. "My sister, that is. She and Vernon, her fiancé, have their own house now. Privet Place, or something rather. We were on poor terms for a while, it's a long story, but recently things have been a lot better. Except… it's fragile. Even though she offered, I don't want to push things, and undo the progress we've made. So I won't stay with her, either."

McGonagall spoke after a few more seconds of the two trudging silently up the path. "That is a difficult equation to solve, your friends not being fully able to comprehend your loss, and their homes, while no doubt happy and welcoming, being possibly unhealthy for your current mental state."

"Do you not think it would be?" Lily asked defensively.

"On the contrary, I think it is entirely likely. The smallest things can affect us in the biggest ways. Especially when we are at our most vulnerable."

"You understand, then."

"I do. I had suspected as much. Perhaps not all of that, but enough. You will rent a home, then? A flat, or apartment?"

"Yes. I've already started looking for cheap places in London. As expected, there are not many."

"No, I would imagine not. This is why I have sought you out, actually. Of the many overdue changes Eugenia Jenkins made during her time, there is one that applies specifically to Muggle-borns in your precise situation. I have the forms prepared already, awaiting yours and the Headmaster's signatures."

Lily frowned, racking her brain. She'd been an avid Jenkins supporter, after all, and was annoyed to find herself at a loss for what McGonagall referred to. "I'm not sure what you're talking about, Professor."

"Ms Evans, if you so desire, you will receive an allowance from the Ministry, of which you need not pay back a Knut, for as long as you study at Hogwarts while paying board for any lodgings outside the castle. It is not an immense amount, but I imagine it will go a long way towards easing your stress management over the break."

Lily stopped walking. "Professor, I cannot accept that-"

"There is some pride I will tolerate, Lily Evans, and there is some for which I have very little patience. When life gives you pumpkins, you must make pumpkin juice. It is well past time you do so."

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When James and the boys stepped back into the Great Hall, the sullen and subdued atmosphere in the room stuck out like Snape's nose. The chatter passing across the tables, usually raucous and filled with energy, now sounded more akin to small talk at a funeral.

"Something's wrong," said Remus.

James hung his head. "Lily's not here."

"No, look around. Why does everyone seem so dull?"

"When Lily's not around, _everything _seems-"

Sirius gave him a sharp elbow to the ribs. "Prongs, something must have happened. Oi!" A third year walked past with a copy of the afternoon paper in hand, and Sirius snatched it off him. "Let's see that." The boys gathered around Sirius, scanning the front page and ignoring the scowling third year.

"Hm," said Remus.

It was an obituary for another series of killings having taken place the previous night. Politicians and leaders. Some names James recognized, others were foreign, and obscure. Needless to say, they'd found the source of the dampened mood. These sorts of papers always darkened the day.

"Now it makes sense," said Sirius, a gleam in his eye.

"What?" James asked, still looking at the paper.

"McGonagall does want us to do a prank!"

"What?" James said again, looking at his friend now. "Did you hear what you just said?"

"Look around, Prongs! It's the last few days of term and everyone's spirits are intolerably low. She wants us to cheer them all up!"

"I agree with Sirius," said Remus quietly, as the four boy went to sit at the Gryffindor table, and set about piling food onto their plates once again. "That was a request from her, looking back." Sirius opened his mouth, looking excited, and Remus continued. "However, I imagine she is expecting something in particular. Something that will make _every _house happy, that will cheer everyone up rather than pick on a few."

James bit his lip. "We're one hundred percent sure that this is what McGonagall wants? We're not over-analyzing?"

"I really think she wants us to do something, James," said Remus. "Fun, and for the whole school."

"I don't know how that would work," said Sirius, frowning. "The whole point of a prank is that _someone_ has to be a victim. The whole school can't be in on it. Otherwise it's not a prank. It's barely even a practical joke!"

"And therein lies the challenge," said Remus. "This might just be our most difficult prank yet. We have to do the impossible."

"To make people laugh without picking on anyone," James mused. "Quite the conundrum."

The others grunted their agreement. For a few moments there was silence, as each boy chewed their food and gazed around the Great Hall ponderously. James' eyes came to a stop when he spotted Tarkin and Thorpe, sitting further down the table with a few other students, presumably the rest of their Performing Arts club, their heads all bowed in defeat.

James turned to look at Sirius. "Hear me out."

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On the last night of term, people still seemed generally downcast. Dumbledore gave a speech that garnered some chuckles, and the feast was grand, with every dish being someone's favorite, but everything seemed a little less vibrant, and there was nothing to be done about it. The mood had pervaded the school for days. A casualty of war, Lily supposed.

"I'm surprised at you," Alice told her while they ate. "The train comes at eleven in the morning tomorrow and you're not even packed yet. The Lily of years past would have had a fit."

"The Lily of years past has… passed," she replied. Her eyes lingered further along the table. She hadn't talked to James in a number of days, not properly, and the more time that passed, the more aware she was of it. The break was going to be a nightmare.

"What do you reckon?"

Lily looked at Marlene on her other side. "What?"

Marlene nodded in the direction Lily had been gazing. "Their prank. They always do one at the end of term."

"Oh, right." Lily looked back at the four boys and thought about it. She wanted to say they had grown beyond that sort of thing, but she caught the look on all their faces. She reckoned she knew James Potter very well by now, and he only wore the look of innocence on his features when he was in the very thick of some mischief. "Oh, bollocks."

"I hope they don't go overboard," said Alice. "I'm not sure everyone's in the mood for it."

"I'm not sure those four ever account for what anyone's in the mood for," said Marlene. Lily noticed the girl was looking specifically at Sirius.

"Merlin only knows what they have planned," said Lily absentmindedly.

"Why would Merlin know?" asked Alice.

"Isn't that-" Lily frowned. "That's the saying. Magical people swap 'Merlin' with 'god', so I said, '_Merlin only-'_"

"We do no such thing," said Marlene bemusedly. "We say, '_Merlin's beard_', sure, because Merlin had a very long beard. But we don't go saying, '_Oh, my Merlin,_' now, do we?"

"I- Well, I suppose not."

The Great Hall went quiet when Dumbledore stood and spoke, wishing them a safe and happy break, and that they may return for their next year invigorated and ready to learn once again. They clapped, he bid them all a good night, then there was an explosion in the Entrance Hall.

Everyone gasped as waves of heat and sound washed over them, and all heads snapped over to stare out at the source.

"Those absolute hooligans," Marlene breathed.

A dragon was in the Entrance Hall. Lily couldn't believe her eyes - she never thought she'd see one in the flesh - but there it was, defying logic and reason. Red and enormous, it curled up by the staircase and looked in at them all, eyes flitting around lazily. It was almost too big for the Entrance Hall, there seemed to be no space for it to move, and it looked into the Great Hall, seeing all the space and short meals it could ask for, and it's eyes betrayed a hunger as immense as its body.

The teachers, after a moment of bewildered staring, rushed and clambered down together from their table, racing out to the Entrance Hall. McGonagall barely spared James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter a contemptuous glance as she stormed past. Lily heard her mutter, "This is what happens when they're given a chance."

The teachers launched jinxes at the dragon as soon as they were close enough, trying to move it back. Once all of them were battling it, their spells careening harmlessly onto the creature's hide, and no more teachers were left in the Great Hall, the gigantic doors between the halls creaked and groaned, then shut behind the lot of them.

There was a moment of silence in the Great Hall, with just the students left, and before absolute chaos had the chance to rear its head, James stood up onto the Gryffindor table and raised his hand. All heads turned to him.

"Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs are proud to present: _The Sleeping Dragon_!"

He made a sweeping gesture, and all candles in the Great Hall were suddenly extinguished. The only light in the hall left was from the stars above them all, glittering down from the enchanted ceiling.

Then wandlight briefly shone onto James' face. "Also that wasn't a real dragon, it's a boggart. Did you know Wendall Pyke's worst fear is a _dragon_? Anyway, enjoy the show."

His light went out, and there was darkness again. Confused mutterings among the students filled the room for a few seconds, before the candles on the teachers' table all lit up. Only, the teachers' table wasn't there anymore.

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James sat down, his smug grin identical to that of Sirius, Remus, and Peter's, and the four boys watched with the rest of the students as the raised area at the front of the Great Hall that usually housed the teachers' table lit up, candles raised above it, cleared of the teachers' table and completely bare, but for Tarkin standing at the centre, beaming out at them all. "Welcome, fellow students! The Hogwarts Performing Arts club, in association with the Marauders, are excited to present to you, _The Sleeping Dragon_! A play of Hogwarts' founders four, but with an exciting twist - _you_ get to choose the ending!"

After a moments' silence, applause broke out among the students. James looked around with satisfaction as he observed interested, even excited expressions on his fellow students' faces. The Slytherins, as always, looked somewhat sour. The four boys had been well aware that they were effectively taking all the students hostage for the show, regardless of whether or not they wanted to watch it, but to open up those giant doors for the students would be to allow the teachers to shut this all down. To do what McGonagall had asked of them, the boys had resigned themselves to making her very, very angry.

"So," continued Tarkin, "sit tight, enjoy your meals, and please refrain from talking during the show."

"Meals?" James heard a few confused voices murmur.

Curtains materialized, hanging from nothing, and obscured what was now the stage. Once again the only sources of light were the stars above them all, and James had to shine wandlight on his face again and stand on the table to reclaim attention. "If you would all please stand."

He waited, and looked at them all expectantly. They weren't too happy about that one. Grumbles and unenthusiastic chatter rose, but once all arses had left seats James and Sirius waved their wands and all the tables and rows of seats vanished completely. They waved their wands again, and before the stage appeared rows upon rows of picnic blankets, many filled to the edges of their fabric with stacks of delicious night time sweets and treats, steaming mugs of cocoa and fresh, thirst-quenching pumpkin juice. It was much too much food for the students to hope to run out of, and the mutterings instantly turned appreciative, the faces excited again. James even spied a few Slytherins fighting over picnic blankets and food, and he turned to the other three.

"We've done it, boys."

"Steady on, Prongs," said Sirius, and the four made their way over to an empty picnic blanket. "The show hasn't even started yet."

"Well, I have a fantastic feeling about it."

"You four are something else, really."

The boys looked over to see Alice smiling and shaking her head, bringing with her Frank, Marlene, and Lily. They had gathered food and drink, more than necessary for all eight of them, and Frank dragged another picnic blanket over for them to join the four boys.

"We do try our best," said Remus, smiling back.

"What on earth compelled you to team up with the Performing Arts club?" asked Frank.

"We decided to do a prank for everyone this time," said James. "Our very first time."

Lily threw him an appreciative smile, and James winked. They hadn't properly chatted in a couple days, and her smiles were hitting his gut extra hard. Alice and Frank sat down next James, and Lily was forced to sit with Marlene on their other side.

"What did the boy mean by _we _get to choose the ending?" Marlene called over.

"That was our idea," said Peter happily. "Their original play was boring, so we spiced it up here and there. And to get everyone even more interested and attentive, we're all going to choose how it ends!"

"Fascinating," said Lily. "Honestly, I approve."

"We're glad," said Remus. "Pay attention now. It's starting."

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Behind the curtains, Tarkin and Thorpe stood together dressed in frilly robes and tights - their Godric and Salazar costumes. With them were Elisa and Theodosia, two very pretty girls who were the only other members of the little acting troupe, dressed as Helga and Rowena respectively. At the back of what was now their stage was a makeshift dressing room Remus Lupin had conjured for them, with a Disillusionment charm cast upon it to hide it from the audience once the curtains were drawn.

"We wanted exposure to get new members," Eliza hissed to the two boys. "I thought that would mean a performance to perhaps thirty students, not the entire school!"

"What did you say to the Marauders?" asked Theodosia, looking genuinely impressed. "How in the world did you get _them_ to help _us_?"

"They see Tarkin and myself as their proteges," said Thorpe with a smirk, sticking his arm out to lean against a wall. When he found no wall, hand groping thin air, he stood straighter and put his arms behind his back. "They think rather highly of us."

"Yup," said Tarkin. He tried to shuffle a little closer to Eliza. "I imagine once they leave Hogwarts, the mantle of resident pranksters will fall to us."

"Right," said Eliza, grimacing.

"It's true," said Thorpe, giving Theodosia what he must have thought was a wink but what came across more as an involuntary twitch. "We're going to be a big deal."

"Okay," said Theodosia, with the restrained air of feigned interest. "Great. So, erm, we're ready for act one, then? Shall we begin?"

"Right." Thorpe straightened. "We're beginning."

"Let's begin," said Tarkin quickly. He turned, stumbled into Thorpe, and they each disentangled themselves and hurried on.

"Are you girls ready?" Thorpe asked, striding to the curtains. "This is going to be absolutely- How do you open these?"

"You pull the rope," said Tarkin.

"I'm pulling."

"Here, move aside. I think it takes two."

"The curtains are charmed," said Eliza. "Pulling won't-"

"Hold on, love, we've got it," said Tarkin, sparing her a gracious smile.

"Are you pulling, Tarkin?"

"I'm pulling."

"Pull harder, then- Oh, I think we pull this one actually."

"Right you are, Thorpe. Okay, let's pull."

"On three. One, two-"

"Why would you count it down? Just pull it now!"

"Ah, right you are, Tarkin. One, two-"

"Just pull!"

"Alright, I'm pulling!"

Eliza and Theodosia shared a glance, one which they'd been forced into growing quite accustomed to sharing, and together they lifted and waved their wands, and-

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The curtains parted. Tarkin and Thorpe blinked out at their audience for a few seconds, and silence followed. James frowned. This wasn't the captivating start he'd envisioned.

"Hark," cried out Eliza, in her yellow Hufflepuffian gown. "Here come two brave warriors!"

Theodosia clapped her hands over her cheeks and huffed, blue dress willowing around her. "As I live and breath! It's Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin!"

After a few seconds, Tarkin stopped blinking dumbly and stood at full height, puffing his chest out. "Indeed, it is I! Godric Gryffindor!"

Thorpe quickly matched his friend's movements, making them perhaps even grander. "And I, Salazar Slytherin!"

There were cheers and boos from different parts of the audience at both boys' announcements. James smiled. That was better.

"We have come from far away, survived fierce battles, fought all manner of man and beast, and now we have returned."

"Yes," said Thorpe, "and we are best friends!"

"Yes, very best friends! Nothing will ever break our bond."

Thorpe nodded. "Ever."

Some of the students giggled.

Peter leaned close to Frank. "The joke is that they _do_ actually stop being-"

"I get it, Pete."

James, while looking around at the faces of each student, caught a look on Sirius' face, eyes fixed upon Marlene. And they burned with intensity.

"Aye," called Tarkin, "we know each other's every thought! There is no secret between Godric and Salazar."

James nudged him, and Sirius glanced at him in surprise, the intensity fading. "Let's go for a walk."

To the left of the stage was a door that led to a chamber with portraits adorning the walls. James and Sirius had spent many detentions cleaning these portraits. Admittedly, they had received just as many detentions for vandalizing them in the first place.

"What?" asked Sirius when James closed the door behind them.

"We need to talk about McKinnon."

"How much do you think there is to talk about, Prongs? Seriously. It's over. Stop bringing it up."

"It's over to her, sure. But don't try convincing me that it's over for you. We're far too similar for me to ever believe that, and we've both seen how bad _I_ am at letting things go."

Sirius scowled. "What is there to talk about? I already told you. She broke up with me, she's getting married, and there's nothing I can do. Sure, you're right. I haven't let her go yet. I haven't even _begun_ to let her go. I'm not sure I can. But that doesn't mean I haven't given up, because I have. Like I said, there's nothing I can do."

Sirius had turned as he spoke, facing a portrait on the wall with his back to James. They were both quiet for a few seconds. Sirius' breathing was heavy. James waited, perhaps for a minute, before prompting him. "That's not all, though. Is it?"

Sirius' voice was strained, and he spoke quietly. "I lose everything, Prongs. Every time something good sneaks its way into my life, I lose it. Every," his shoulders shuddered, "time."

James walked to him quickly, put a hand on his shoulder, settled it. "It might seem that way, but you know it's not true. I'll always be right here. You think you'll ever lose me?"

"No," Sirius muttered.

"Or Remus? Or Peter?"

"No."

"Never. You'll likely lose much, much more in your life, but there are some things you have that will never leave you."

Sirius turned. If there had been tears on his face, James saw no sign of them. Sirius grimaced. "And I suppose one of those things is you?"

James clapped his shoulder and smirked. "Always."

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"Fight, fight, fight," chanted Mulciber and Travers, pumping their fists with all the rest of the students.

"You lied to me," Salazar roared on the stage, brandishing his wand grandly.

"No," Godric yelled back, pulling his own wand out. "_You_ lied to _me_!"

"Oh, yeah?" Salazar's face broke out into a snide grin. "When was the last time you saw Helga, old friend?"

Godric narrowed his eyes. "What are you implying?"

"Months, perhaps?" Salazar laughed. "I can tell you why that is. It is because she has been in my bed!"

The students all gasped. Mulciber clapped a hand over his mouth and looked at Travers, who had a look of equal shock on his face.

"I'll kill you," Godric bellowed.

"You will try!"

Mulciber whooped. "Get him, Salazar!"

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At the interlude, Remus flicked his wand, lighting up all the candles in the Great Hall once more. He'd had to conjure a makeshift toilet at the back of the hall halfway into act two, cursing himself and the boys for their lack of foresight. Now students rushed to this group of wooden structures Remus had hastily put together, while the rest of them restocked their picnic blankets with more food and drink.

Remus looked over as James and Sirius returned at last, and called to them. "You've missed half the play."

James shrugged. "We wrote the play. I'm sure we'll manage to keep up from here."

"And what a fantastic play it is," said Alice, her eyes dancing. "You've managed to make a story we've all heard a million times _interesting _again. And it's so brave, too."

"Thank you," said James, smiling. Then he paused. "Brave?"

"Yeah, I mean it's a brave move to make the main characters a same-sex couple. You don't see that every day."

"Same-" James shook his head. "What?"

He then heard snippets of conversations from the picnic blankets around them.

"I _cannot_ wait for Godric and Salazar to get together. I'm so impatient I think I'll _die_."

"Yeah, why have they been dragging it out for so long? I thought for sure it would have happened by now."

"They have so much chemistry, too. They're going to make _such_ a good couple."

"Prongs," Sirius muttered, "I think we were away for too long."

Lily was watching James' face, seeming to be holding back laughter. "You didn't plan this," she said. "Did you?"

James shook his head. He looked around. Every student was talking animatedly among themselves, and the only words he grasped were, _Godric_, _Salazar_, and, _We're so close to it, I can feel it!_

He was positively baffled. "How on earth do you all think the relationship between Gryffindor and Slytherin is romantic? They hate each other!"

"Potter," said Lily, "sometimes that's the most romantic thing in the world."

James' throat constricted for a second as their eyes met and he coughed. "On occasion, perhaps. But the founders? Really?"

"We can hardly complain," said Remus. "It seems to be half the reason they're all enjoying the show. The only problem is, now they're expecting it to happen. We might have to change the script at this point."

Just then, James heard his name being called and he turned. Tarkin and Thorpe approached, each beaming. Other students would call and wave to them, and the two would puff their chests out, their grins inflating to the point of bursting.

"We have to thank you, Potter," said Tarkin. "This has all really worked out splendidly. They love us!"

James smiled, wondering if Tarkin had yet realized the reason the students suddenly loved them. "No problem."

"We're very excited to see what kind of ending all these adoring fans cook up for us," said Thorpe. "We haven't heard a peep from the other students about it yet, so don't tell us!"

"I won't," said James truthfully. "Listen. As planned, we're going to collect their votes on slips of parchment. Now, boys, however the audience decides the play ends, that's how it ends. Do you understand me?"

"James," said Tarkin, laughing and throwing an arm around James' shoulder. "We're professionals! Of course we'll stick to the plan."

"The audience knows best," said Thorpe, smiling broadly.

"Good men," said James. He clapped them both on the shoulder, and sent them off. Then he looked at his friends. "I'm very lucky those two annoy me so much. It makes being dishonest a whole lot easier."

When enough time had passed Remus extinguished all the lights again, all students took their seats, the curtains slid open, and the play resumed.

"I'm leaving," Salazar roared. "But I will have my revenge, Gryffindor. I have left something. A creature, as deadly as it is enormous. And… it is very enormous! One day my heir will come to this school and exact my vengeance upon you!"

Theodosia held a hand over her heart. "Salazar, no!"

"You would do that, old friend?" Godric asked. "To the school we dedicated our lives to making a reality?"

"If it would make you suffer?" Salazar raised his arms in a mighty gesture. "I would do anything!"

"Oh, Godric," cried Helga, running to him and taking his arm. "Please, don't let him do it!"

Marlene leaned over to James. "I'm not a fan of how both the females in this play are little more than damsels in distress."

James opened his mouth.

"That was my idea," called Sirius, sitting on the other side of James and Remus.

Marlene glared.

James scratched his nose and chose not to say anything.

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It took Professor McGonagall longer than she'd care to admit to realize the dragon was a mere boggart. Once Professor Kettleburn vanquished the boggart, his worst fear being his wife, the teachers all focussed on the door.

It took Professor McGonagall longer than she'd care to admit to figure out how in the world to break the seal on those doors, too.

"Mighty talented wizards, those four boys," chortled Professor Slughorn, who watched with his hands in his pockets while McGonagall, Sprout, and Flitwick struggled with the door.

McGonagall exhaled sharply through her nose as yet another spell dissipated into the polished wooden doors. "Where is Albus?" she asked the rest of the staff. "I haven't seen him since the dragon appeared."

"Boggart," Slughorn corrected.

"Maybe he's checking the school's defences," Flitwick suggested. "As far as he knows, a _dragon_ has been smuggled into the school!"

"But why would Potter and his friends go to so much trouble just to keep us out here?" Sprout asked. "What kind of prank is that?"

"An extremely foolish one," said McGonagall sharply. "When I am through with those boys, they'll never want to prank again."

"First we have to get to them," pointed out Slughorn.

"Perhaps you would like to do the honors then, Horace," McGonagall suggested.

"I will do my best," he said cheerfully. She stepped aside and he took her position, breathed deeply, and raised his wand.

There was a loud click. Slughorn opened and closed his mouth quickly, then tilted his head.

"I've done it," said Flitwick, lowering his wand. "Let's go."

"Yes," said Slughorn. "Filius and I seem to be on the same page. Let us go!"

Sound escaped past the doors now. Laughter and cheers. McGonagall pushed through the doors and slipped into the Great Hall. She spent a good few moments marvelling at the scene before her. The others teachers joined her, bemusement turning into understanding and soon amusement.

"Marvelous, isn't it?"

McGonagall whirled around. Just by the doors, Albus Dumbledore sat cross legged on a picnic blanket laden with sherbet lemons and Fizzing Whizbees. He looked up at her, the corners of his piercing blue eyes crinkled, half-moon spectacles folded and lying on the blanket.

"They've put on a fantastic show."

"Will you ever see Salazar again?" Helga asked on the stage, hands clutched to her chest.

"I know not," said Godric, shaking his head sadly. "I know not."

Dumbledore popped a candy into his mouth. "I especially enjoy the direction they chose to take the relationship between Gryffindor and Slytherin in. It's… refreshing."

McGonagall stepped closer to his picnic blanket, and as she watched the show on the stage, and the audience clapping, laughing, cheering, booing, _enjoying_ themselves, the fury slowly left her eyes. "Hours ago these students were ending their school year dejected and scared," she said quietly.

Dumbledore didn't respond.

"I had been right, it seems then, to defer to those four to lift morale. Would you agree?"

"Oh," said Dumbledore, chuckling, "I most certainly would."

"They have a knack for this sort of thing. They always have. Until recently they never used it appropriately. What do you think changed, Albus?"

"The world changed. And it changed them." After a few more seconds, Dumbledore added, "One of them in particular."

She knew, of course, who that was. "He has grown remarkably in a very short amount of time. Now he is a fantastic leader."

"He was always a fantastic leader."

"Was he?"

"The potential was always there. It is a matter of cultivating that potential, Minerva. That is what we do here. That is our job. You have always asked why I am so lenient on those four boys." Dumbledore pointed to the stage. "It is to reach _this_ point."

McGonagall crossed her arms. "You knew, then. Didn't you? From the first time they stepped foot in this school, you knew we would eventually reach here. And, in fact, alongside Ms Evans, we have two students who, in their leadership, stand head and shoulders above their peers. You knew that James Potter would one day be our strongest contender for Head..." She shook her head and laughed dumbly. She couldn't even say it. Dumbledore, as expected, seemed not to share her surprise.

"I guessed. And my guesses have, usually, been good," Dumbledore said happily.

The two were silent for what seemed like a long time, and McGonagall could only shake her head.

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It had been no secret to James that Tarkin and Thorpe very much fancied Eliza and Theodosia respectively. He had written their love interests into the play accordingly, after all, and spared apologies for the two girls only in his mind.

The play had been intended to end with both couples getting together. It had been intended to.

The four cast members stood on the stage, 'frozen in place' while James and Sirius gathered parchment from all students. "Godrizar? Gryfferin?" a third year girl contemplated loudly. "I don't know what to call it!"

With all parchment collected, the James and Sirius analyzed the data.

"Right," said Sirius. "There's no avoiding it now."

James wrote on one more piece of parchment, hurried to the stage, and passed it to Eliza. The four characters unfroze, and James rejoined his friends on their picnic blanket.

"I've just received a letter from my father, offering his advice," Eliza said to the other three.

"What did he say?" asked Tarkin.

"Yeah, what did he say?" asked Thorpe.

Both had their wands pointed at each other's throats.

Eliza put a hand to her mouth, and it looked to James like she was stifling a giggle. "He says… He says he wants you two to-" She cleared her throat and put on a serious expression. "Godric, Salazar, my father says it is time for the two of you to be together."

The two boys paused.

"What?" asked Tarkin.

"Your love has been forbidden all this time, but now my father offers his blessing."

Sirius shook his head beside James. "This makes no sense within the context of the story."

"Shush," Alice ordered.

Theodosia took a peek at the parchment in Eliza's hands and turned, the cogs turning behind her eyes. She was beaming. "It is time. Oh, great warriors… kiss!"

The audience grew raucous. "Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!"

Thorpe tried to say something, but it was lost to the crowd, lost to the chanting, the excited bellows. Both boys' eyes searched the crowd, then rested on James pleadingly.

James gave a stern nod, and furrowed his brows as threateningly as possible.

Tarkin and Thorpe glanced at each other. The chanting picked up pace and volume. After a few more seconds, they seemed to accept their fates. They screwed up their faces, grimacing and wincing already, eyes shut tight, noses wrinkled, and stuck out their chins. They moved closer. The crowd grew into a frenzy, the chant unintelligible from screams now. Noses touched.

Then, at last, tightly shut lips pressed together, and the Great Hall erupted. The embrace was held for all of three seconds, then the two boys shoved each other away, spluttering and coughing and wiping their faces. The audience cared not, going wild, throwing food into the air, applause and cheers filling the room. James even spotted tears on a handful of faces.

Eliza and Theodosia rushed forward gleefully, linked arms with the two boys, and the Hogwarts Performing Arts Club bowed as one amid applause so great, one might think the four had just won the House Cup.

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The teachers had taken charge afterwards, ushering students to their dorms and wishing them all a safe trip home. McGonagall had looked ready to give James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter the talking-to of their lives, but at a touch on the arm from Dumbledore, she sighed and turned to lead some first years from the hall. Dumbledore had seemed amused by what had transpired, congratulated the four on a job well done, and instructed them to tidy up the Great Hall.

A fairly light punishment, Lily reckoned, but she didn't much care these days.

Frank, Alice, Marlene, and herself had elected to help the four boys, and they were making light work of the task.

"You still need to pack your bags, Lily," Alice called as she vanished a few picnic blankets.

"I know."

"What time do you have to be there?"

"My landlord wants my tenant agreement by five. Otherwise, he says our agreement is void and I'll have nowhere to live."

"That sounds shady," said Frank, lining the house tables back in place with a charm.

"That's London," said Lily.

She didn't notice James turn to Marlene and Alice inquisitively, didn't register their voices.

Frank grimaced. "Yeah. Hey, I know you already said no to Alice and Mar, but-"

"No, Longbottom," Lily said flatly.

"Right you are," he said, nodding and focussing again on the tables.

She was grateful to all of them, of course she was. Their offers meant a great deal to her. It was no small order, to open one's home to another for months on end, regardless of how close they were. Be that as it may, she still could not do it.

Their full homes would only remind her of what she had lost. And none of them could comprehend that loss.

"Oi, Evans!"

Her head whipped around. James approached, with rolled up picnic blankets tucked under one arm.

"I hear you're going to flat in London?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

"No, you're not." James walked on, went to roll up the next picnic blanket. "You're moving into my place. I need more company other than just Sirius and the House-elves."

"Oi," complained Sirius.

Lily's answer was much quicker than it should have been. Much simpler than it should have been. But, as sudden as it was, it was a quick and simple matter. Pride and hesitation were swallowed, and Lily nodded happily. "Okay."


	30. The Torment of Anton Windstrum

The sunlight of a beautiful morning lit up the dormitory. Lily packed clothes into her bag, humming a tune for a song that didn't exist. Everyone else was getting a quick breakfast before leaving for the train, but Lily had left packing to the last minute. She didn't mind. At times like these she enjoyed her own thoughts more than any conversation. At any rate, she suspected that she wouldn't have very much meditative time over the break.

She was going to live with James Potter over her summer break before seventh year. Throughout the night, throughout the morning, the thought had swung back and forth through her mind like a pendulum. She'd been to Potter Manor before, of course. It was an extraordinary place. Now she was going to live there. With House-elves, Sirius… James.

She wondered what a younger Lily Evans would make of this situation. She wondered what a younger Lily Evans would make of _her_.

Appalled on both fronts, most likely.

She was going to live with James. The thought swung through her head again. This was an incredibly intimate thing to do. Although, she reflected, they had become fairly intimate with each other. Of course they hadn't indulged their intimacy for some time now, not really, but a whole summer living with him? Something… _untoward_ was bound to happen, surely. It didn't surprise Lily at all to find her heart racing at the thought. She'd grown quite familiar with the feeling over the past year.

Sixth year had been disastrous and beautiful. There were many moments she would change, many more she held most dear. Whether she liked it or not, she was a different person, and her life, everything discernable on her horizon, had been irreversibly altered. For better or worse.

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"That," said Dumbledore, frowning, stroking his beard, "is very grave news."

"Indeed," said Harold Minchum, sitting on the other side of the Headmaster's desk. There were lines on the Minister for Magic's forehead that hadn't been there a few months ago. "All communications with the German Ministry have been lost. I haven't heard back from any of our delegates in days. I expect they're all dead. We have to assume that Voldemort has taken complete control over Germany."

Dumbledore let out a breath. "So the rumors were all true."

"It certainly seems that way. I wasn't around, but I am aware this is the same thing Grindelwald did while rising to power. It's the same country that he's taken control of, too."

"They were difficult times," said Dumbledore. "Although I fear the steepest mountains lie only ahead of us. I fear we must go to war."

"We are already at war."

"Yet here we sit."

"You and I do not have the liberty of getting our hands dirty, Professor. You yourself only got involved against Grindelwald when you absolutely had to. How was the war fought before then, I wonder?"

Dumbledore leaned back in his seat, considered a particular letter he'd sent out no less than a week ago, and let a small smile reach his face. "With good soldiers."

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Fabian and Gideon Prewett were in a bind, there were no two ways about it.

"Who sent you?" asked the man pointing the gun at them.

"Sent us?" asked Fabian. "You are being paranoid, my friend. We broke into your warehouse of our own volition."

"That's right," said Gideon, nodding. "You can point a gun at us, you can shoot us, kill us, but you may never rob us of our agency."

"We'd rather you didn't shoot or kill us at all," said Fabian quickly. "My brother is only being poetic."

The man didn't seem to know what to make of their answers. He waved the gun, as though to remind them of its threat. "Why are you here?"

The brothers looked at each other. They shared dark hair and dark eyes, and perhaps they had the same nose, but the similarities ended there. Fabian was tall, thin, and his eyebrows were thicker, making his face look more stern. Gideon was short, stocky, with a wide chest and bulging biceps; his eyebrows were always raised, his smile always wide. Side by side they looked like the number ten.

"I won't insult your intelligence," said Fabian. "You're clearly a very smart man. We came here to use your toilet, but we got lost."

The man frowned. "You snuck onto my boat, halfway across the Pacific Ocean, to use the toilet?"

Gideon looked at Fabian. "We're on a boat?"

"No," said Fabian, frowning.

A few shipping containers slid across the ground, then slowed, and started sliding the other way.

Gideon looked around the vast room they had mistook for a warehouse upon apparating in, seeing everything sway to and fro. He looked down at his legs. He was swaying to and fro. "Fabian, we're on a boat."

"Fascinating," murmured Fabian. "So if one apparates to a place they have been before, but that place moves elsewhere, they are taken to the new place rather than the old."

"In that case," said Gideon, "instead of London we are, what did he say? In the Pacific Ocean?"

"What the blazes are the two of you talking about?" asked the man. He waved the gun again, eyes beginning to bulge. "What are you doing here?"

The brothers raised their hands in the air. "Relax," said Gideon, giving the man one of his famous charming smiles. "We aren't going to hurt you."

The man found this funny. "Hurt _me_?"

"We only want to ask you a few questions. How did you come by your cargo?"

For the first time, the man looked cautious. "Through legal methods. I have the papers."

"No, you don't," said Fabain dismissively. He turned to his brother. "Let's just take him down now."

"We're not taking him down," said Gideon, his smile still in place. "We're here to have a discussion with him."

"A discussion at gunpoint," the man pointed out, waving the gun yet again.

"It's a discussion at gunpoint," Fabian told his brother.

"It's a discussion at gunpoint among _friends_," Gideon stressed.

"If you two don't start giving me some answers…"

"You took the words right out of my mouth," said Gideon. "Mr Crawford, let us cease beating around the bush. Where did you get the Centaurs?"

The man froze. The gun quivered. "The what?"

"Centaurs," said Fabian impatiently. "Half men, half horses. You have shipping containers full of them, and if I had to take a guess I'd say we're on our way to, what? Asia? China?"

Mr Crawford's mouth worked up and down for a few seconds before he found his voice. "You're… you're _them_. You're both Warlocks."

"Wizards," Gideon corrected politely.

"Who's _them_?" Fabian pressed. "Who have you met with in the last week? Flint? Macnair?"

The man shook his head. "I'm not telling you."

The brothers' eyes widened.

"Sallow?" Gideon exclaimed. "You're shipping Centaurs for _Sallow_?"

The man shook his head faster. "No!"

"He is!" Fabian looked at his brother in alarm. "Merlin, these Centaurs might already be dead!"

They turned and hurried to the nearest container, reaching into their pockets for their-

"Stop right there," the man shouted, firing a round off. There was a _clang_, and a shell clattered onto the floor. There was a dent in the container in front of them. The brothers froze, and turned around slowly.

"Don't," said the man slowly, gun unwavering now, hesitation gone from his face, "even think about it."

"Think about what?" asked Fabian.

"Remove your hands from your pockets, _slowly_. If I see even the point of a _wand_, I shoot."

Grimacing, Gideon and Fabian slowly lifted their hands from their pockets, empty. Now that his shock had worn off, the man seemed much more of a threat. He took a few steps forward, gun moving from one brother to the other. "Now, you're going to explain to me exactly how you found me, so that I can avoid meeting freaks like the two of you again. Then, I'll shoot three bullets through each of your skulls and tip you over the side of the boat. Sound good?"

Gideon opened his mouth to say no. Then there was a white flash of light, and Mr Crawford stopped moving suddenly, his eyes unfocused, before he tipped sideways and hit the ground, gun clattering away from him.

"One day," came a familiar voice to the brothers, "I'd like to run into the two of you _without_ having to save your lives."

A man jumped down from atop one of the shipping containers. His hair was grey, though he was no older than they were. He wore a vest, showing off toned arms and a lean figure. The corners of light blue eyes crinkled as he regarded them.

"Edgar," said Fabian, nodding.

Gideon took the opportunity to blast open the door to one of the shipping containers. "Lumos," he murmured.

By wandlight, he could make out figures in the dark. Bodies of gleaming chestnut brown, strong, powerful. Hooves clinked upon the metal floor. Gideon had expected fear, but when he raised his wand he saw valour, pride upon the faces of each Centaur in the container. Their shoulders, rippling with sinew and muscle, were wide, their heads held high. Gideon looked at the one at the front, and bowed his head. "We're busting you guys out," he whispered.

"Dumbledore wants us," said Edgar loudly behind him.

Gideon turned from the container, brow furrowed.

Edgar Bones put his hands in his pockets and surveyed the brothers with a grimace. "He sent me a letter last week. The war is escalating. He needs help."

"Tell him to round some Aurors up," said Fabian. Neither brother was looking particularly enthusiastic. "Form a new team."

"He did," said Edgar. "You must have heard of it. Caradoc Dearborn, Sawyer Hughes, the Potters. All dead."

"See?" said Fabian. "That's what happens! Same as us, he gets us to form a team, we do his dirty work for him all over Germany, then we go to raid Nurmengard with him, and the three of us are the only ones to come out alive!"

"Barnabus survived Nurmengard, if you recall," Edgar pointed out.

"The blood loss killed Barnabus hours later," Fabian snapped. "Tell Dumbledore to find some new suicidal fools."

"Also we've started a band," said Gideon, scratching his head. "I'd hate to die before we record our album."

"We did good work in Germany," said Edgar. "The seven of us saved hundreds of thousands of lives." There was the rattling of hooves against metal, and the Centaurs emerged from the shipping container. They squinted at the light, raising their hands to their eyes, taking deep breaths of fresh air. "Helping others is what people like us do," Edgar said quietly.

Fabian glanced at Gideon. After a few seconds, both brothers hung their heads.

"What's the job?" Fabian asked resignedly.

"You-Know-Who and Anton Windstrum, the treacherous bastard that he is, have taken complete control over Germany."

Gideon froze. "And so… Dumbledore wants us to…"

"We have to take back Germany," said Edgar, nodding. "Again."

Fabian threw his hands up. "Why is it always Germany?"

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Severus used to be sure that he would never again be as miserable as he was in his childhood. The first nine years of his life had been cold, torturous, with the paradise of Hogwarts always just out of arm's reach - until suddenly it wasn't, and he could learn to enjoy getting out of his bed for the first time.

Now, Severus could confidently say that sixth year had been the worst year of his life. He would rather watch his parents fight a million times before witnessing Lily Evans bite her lip while looking at James Potter in Potions just once more. He would watch his father raise a hand against his mother, against _him_, as many times as it took to never again hear the words, "_Did you hear Evans is gonna live with Potter over the summer?_" It seemed ludicrous that the latter hurt him so much more than the former ever had, unbelievable even, but that was the simple truth of the matter. This was a pain unlike anything he had felt before.

"No," said Severus disinterestedly. "I did not."

Travers shrugged as he cut into a steak. "Everyone's talking about it."

"Well, I can only hope that everyone may find something more worthwhile to talk about."

After a few seconds, Travers got distracted by another student, and Severus pushed his plate away and stood from the Slytherin table. He hurried from the Great Hall as fast as he could, wishing for the first time in his life to be at home.

He bumped into a short Ravenclaw girl as he walked. She dropped her books, and he scowled at her, perhaps said something derisive or insulting. He barely registered the words coming out of his mouth, even as those words brought hurt to the girl's face. These sorts of things were becoming second nature to him, unconscious, brought out without effort. They were a part of who he was now.

Severus had never considered himself a nasty person. He still didn't. The world was nasty, and he was just trying to live in it.

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While the others all ate breakfast, Marlene sat on a desk in an empty classroom. She wanted a moment to herself before she got on the train. She also couldn't have attended to the urgent matter at hand with everyone peering over her shoulder. There was a stack of letters beside her, and she held the latest one in her hands.

_Mar_

_Are you sure you want to move our wedding up by that much? I'm all for it, don't get me wrong, but I want to be certain that's what you want. If I marry you today, or marry you in a decade, I'll be just as thrilled. Whatever you want is what we'll do, alright? You just let me know._

_Will_

Later, Marlene took great pride in the fact that she didn't think of Sirius Black once as she hopped off the desk, spread a fresh sheet of parchment over it, and began to write.

_Will_

_Yes, of course I'm sure. We have just over six months - I always thought January weddings were the cutest!_

Perhaps it was a few times, but she expelled him from her mind immediately, and she took great pride in that much.

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Anton Windstrum had been screaming for so long there was no sound coming from his mouth anymore.

"Crucio!"

His mind was numb. Every time he acclimated to the pain, it only intensified, surpassing any tolerance, any chance he had of not breaking.

"_Crucio_!"

He wanted to die. His face was filthy from writhing on the ground, spittle covered his chin, his tongue was bleeding from the gnashing of his teeth.

Why? Why was this happening? It was the only thought he could hold onto, and he had no answer.

Voldemort had said, "You have served me well, Windstrum. You successfully tricked Dumbledore, you were the perfect tool."

Anton had smiled, nodded his thanks.

"But you take me for a fool. The Auror, Caradoc Dearborn, joined the ranks of my Death Eaters under Dumbledore's orders. I learned of this only shortly before his death. Only a select few of Dumbledore's allies knew Dearborn was spying on us. I understand that you were among those few. Why, then, was _I_ not?"

"My Lord-"

"You withheld this information from me because of your friendship with the man. No harm came of it, of course. Before long, when the time came, you killed him. But the fact remains that you were dishonest to Lord Voldemort."

"My Lord, please-"

"I told you once that you are useful to me only as long as your identity as Blithe remains a secret. Now that identity is common knowledge - you are a wanted fugitive, your face is in the papers. You have become a Death Eater of no particular importance, yet one who believes he can get away with lying to me."

"I never lied-"

Voldemort had raised his wand, and Anton's face had paled. "I will not kill you. You still hold some value to me. We have taken Germany, and you will preside over it for me while I attend to more important matters. And when Dumbledore sends his hounds to wage war, they will come to kill you - and they will find me."

"You're using me as bait."

A cold, sadistic smile spread across the skull like face.

"My Lord-"

"CRUCIO!"

There was darkness. Among the darkness there was nothing, no thought or emotion, no awareness of anything outside numb oblivion.

Then someone was shaking him.

Anton gasped for air and sat up. The room was dark but still he squinted, his body shaking, sweating. There was a girl kneeling by him, cradling his neck. She was pretty, with soft brown eyes and curved lashes. "Can you stand?"

Her accent was German.

Anton tried to speak. His throat was ruined, and a rasping whisper came out of his mouth.

She smiled and put her wand to his neck. "Here."

A warm sensation filled his throat, and there was a feeling like melted butter trickling down his vocal chords.

He opened his mouth again and she put a finger to his lips. "Not yet," she said. "Nod once if you can stand."

Anton tensed his legs. The muscles were sore, drained, but he nodded anyway. She put a hand under his armpit and helped him to his feet. His knees shook. Anton cleared his throat. "Why are you helping me? Who-" He coughed. Blood splattered on the ground, a few drops leaving red marks on her shoes. "Who are you?"

"I am Augusta, but you may call me Gus. The Dark Lord has instructed me to assist you while you run our country."

Anton nodded. She was here to keep an eye on him. He saw it plainly. "Where are we?" he croaked.

She frowned. "You came here yourself."

Anton blinked, then nodded. His jumbled mind recalled the events of the day, but it was like water trying to trickle down a stream filled with rocks. "Berlin," he said. "The German Ministry, right?"

"That's correct."

"Remind me, what travel limitations do we still need to put in place?"

"It is impossible to apparate into, out of, or within Germany. Any attempts to use Portkeys to get in or out of Germany will splinch the body into pieces. The Floo network within the country is still operational, but no fireplace can be used to floo in or out," she recited.

"And the sky?"

"Broomsticks are fried upon passing the border. We also have squads monitoring the borders physically. No wizard can enter or leave Germany."

Anton nodded, rubbing his forehead. "But they'll find a way."

She smiled. "We are hoping that they do."

He snorted, looked at his blood on the ground, then back up at her. "Do you know where my wand is?"

"Of course." She moved to the desk, his wand sitting on the polished wood. He hadn't noticed the desk. He hadn't even looked around the room. Was this to be his office?

His body ached.

So he'd been given a new task. Bait, war, death. For the greater good, to take the world back from the Muggles. It seemed like so long ago now, when he'd had his revelation. Muggles were violent, Muggles were cruel.

_His body ached_.

Were wizards really so different? What was he fighting for? Giving his life to?

"Here," said Gus. She handed him his wand, and he relished the feeling of power being put back into his hands.

"Is this my office?"

"Yes," she said. Her smile was very nice to look at. "Is it to your liking?"

"I think we should move the desk," he said quietly.

She looked at the desk, and there was a flash of green light.

Anton walked to the door, heard her body hit the ground. He turned the handle slowly, cracked it open. Two men stood guard outside. They stood facing the door, and Anton knew they were guarding his escape rather than his life.

He took a breath and counted to five, then flicked his wand and the door burst off its hinges, knocking the first man down. He ran out and killed the second man with another flick, then he stomped on the first man's neck.

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While the others all ate breakfast, Remus lay in bed. He wanted desperately to sleep, but found that he couldn't quite grasp it. A week had passed since the last full moon, yet the effects still lingered. They always did. Sometimes he would be perfectly fine, and then all at once he would fall into a sea of fatigue, light-headedness, deadness in all his limbs, and an inconsolable, inexplicable rage. He always suppressed the rage, of course. Remus was far too reasonable a person to allow simple mood swings to bring irrational behaviour out of him. It only meant that sometimes he didn't feel like being around others.

The boys understood this well by now, and they left him to his own devices when they could tell he needed it. Oftentimes he would have to tell them, of course - they weren't exactly the most emotionally sensitive blokes in the castle.

This morning was one such time. He felt bad that all his friends were eating together at the end of their sixth year, but at the same time he really had no patience for it. The anxiety that arose from being around so many, the pressure on his temples from the noise, those carefree smiles and relaxed shoulders throughout the Great Hall, devoid of the burden that Remus had been forced to bear since childhood.

His burden, thrust upon a four year old boy by a werewolf who had recognized the genius in biting him, but not to take his life - could recognize it was crueller by far to leave the child alive.

His burden, a consequence of his father's career, having made an enemy of one Fenrir Greyback and cursing Remus to a life of pain and loneliness. His burden, that which had come to define his life, define his identity, who he felt he was in his core more than anything else.

He didn't resent his father for it, of course. Remus wasn't a resentful person. But all the negative emotion had to be directed somewhere, flow somewhere and towards someone, and there was only one person left.

It was wrong to say Remus hated himself, but perhaps correct to say he hated who he was. He understood well that every person had their own struggles, but there were countless people around him whose lives he could look at and wish were his own. So sometimes he wished he was someone else.

A lot of the time, the reason he wanted to be asleep was because it meant he was not awake.

Remus breathed out and sat up. Blinked moistness from his eyes, wiped them lightly with his sleeve, got out of bed. The latest wave of negativity, the frothing dark thoughts, had suddenly and finally crashed, disappeared completely, and he couldn't understand why he'd been so sad. He never had an explanation for when it left, it simply came and went as it pleased, like a stray dog. He knew it would be back.

For now, however, he could at least eat scrambled eggs and be with friends.

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'_Make love, not war_', was the chant, but Taureau Barkley didn't join in. These people were being referred to by the Muggles as hippies, and he wanted nothing to do with them. Without war, people like Taureau would be out of a job.

Although these days, he really was out of a job, even if it was by his own choice. Tired of people, tired of the world, he had found refuge in the United States, which had always treated him well in the past. He had found himself a home now, a cottage in the countryside of Louisiana - it was the only thing he could think to do after he buried Emmett Falwey, the only love he'd ever known.

The cottage was in a nice spot, far from the city, though when he had to go out for supplies he liked to stop and watch the madness of Muggles. Today Taureau wore a black suit with gold pinstripes. He'd left his aviator sunglasses at home, and had to cover his eyes with his hand against the glare of the sun, a sensation he wasn't accustomed to.

Some of the protesters gave him a second look as they marched past. His dark skin and superior, impeccable dress sense made him stand out in any crowd, but people in the States seemed to take special exception to it. More than a few nasty Muggles would make all sorts of nasty comments, amusingly simple and hair-brained. Those occasions made him miss the British - they were at least nasty with some class.

It fascinated Taureau to observe Muggles. He had never had a particular problem with them, but nor did he see them as equals - he was far too powerful a wizard for it. This sentiment reminded him of lectures, rants he'd listened to from the likes of his old employer, the man he wanted to kill more than anything else in the world. Anton Windstrum, the Muggle hater, who had employed Taureau for months only to kill his lover before his very eyes.

He should have killed Windstrum when he had the chance - and he _had _had the chance, multiple times. He recalled one such time with melancholy - the night he had duelled Windstrum and Caradoc Dearborn in the home of one Cassus Lucio, what seemed like so long ago now. He had known when setting out for that house that he would have to duel his employer, who was of course undercover as one of Dumbledore's allies at the time. He knew he would have to make things look realistic, and they had. His killing curses had come extremely close to bringing Windstrum's life to what he now saw as a rather timely end. But the curses had missed. Taureau could have very easily killed the man had he been properly trying, and the love of his life would still be alive.

Now, however, Taureau had no one. He had no purpose.

There were plenty of jobs available in the States that suited Taureau's more violent skillset, but since his recent failure to kill Windstrum, he felt he had lost his appetite for the business. He wasn't sure what to do anymore.

"Power to the people," said a girl walking past, smiling widely at him. Her head was shaved, and she had a nose ring.

"Power to the people," responded Taureau with detached amusement. He'd assumed she would move along, but she didn't. She extended a hand, presumably to shake.

He eyed her hand like it was diseased. "I think not. Move along."

But she stayed still, so still Taureau could only assume she was under the influence of some powerful Muggle drugs. As a high end assassin, he knew just how hard it was to stand that still. After a few more moments of staring, Taureau rolled his eyes, and with a grimace he reached out and-

She dropped a torn piece of parchment in his hand.

Taureau frowned, squinted at the writing on the parchment.

_Mr Barkley_

_I understand that you are a certified expert in tracking down one Anton Windstrum, and have a vested interest in seeing to his demise. I will be in contact. Have a bag packed._

_A. Dumbledore_

Taureau looked up. The girl had disappeared into the crowd.

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_Caradoc shook his head. "No."_

"_I am sorry, my friend." Anton saw the betrayal fill his closest friend's eyes moments before they lit up with green light, watched Caradoc topple, lifeless, hit the ground-_

Anton sat bolt upright, sweating. The eyes of Caradoc Dearborn were burned into the back of his mind. When he blinked he saw them.

The room was dark. He had broken into one of the first Muggle homes he had found, drawn all the curtains in the living room, and fallen asleep on the couch. It couldn't be past midday yet. He couldn't have been sleeping for more than an hour.

So why had he woken up?

Anton listened, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. He could make out the outlines of chairs, tables, some curved shapes here and there, but everything was still. There was no threat. He relaxed.

One of the shapes moved.

Anton rolled off the couch as green light lit the room up, and he saw a dozen masked Death Eaters packed into the place. He pulled his wand from his pocket, levitated one of the tables over him as more green light flashed, and he heard cracking and sizzling, each sound accompanied by another flash of light.

He cast a disillusionment charm over himself, crawled out from under the table and hurried on his hands and knees. When the table shattered under the onslaught he heard the Death Eaters curse, and one of them cried, "Lumos!"

The room was lit up with white light, and Anton crawled faster, hoping they wouldn't see his outline, praying-

He bumped into a table. A vase fell. Smashed.

Anton pushed himself up to his feet and sprinted as killing curses came careening past his body, hitting the walls around him and leaving black, smoking marks. He ran through a corridor, came to a kitchen with blinding sunlight streaming in. Without stopping he leaped onto the counter and dove through the window. Chunks of shattered glass rained upon him as he hit the grass outside and rolled. It occurred to him as he got to his feet, wincing, limping, that he had only himself to place the blame of his current predicament on, for putting a bloody anti-apparition jinx over the entire country in the first place.

He looked around. The street was busy, and he raised an arm when he saw a taxi approach. The driver squinted as he drew near, taking in Anton's appearance. Behind him Anton heard the front door of the house open, and he hurried into the car, not caring what the driver made of the situation.

The driver looked at him with raised brows. "Wohin?"

"Fahren," said Anton, eyeing the masked figures rushing out of the house, wands raised. "Just drive!"

The driver glanced at the figures and the car shot off a moment later. Evidently, he had deduced they weren't very friendly company.

Anton leaned his head back against the seat and breathed out. His shirt was riddled with cuts. His face stung, and he was sure he was bleeding.

It was a few minutes into the drive when an excruciating pain lanced up Anton's arm. He screwed his eyes shut and yelled, and the driver swerved the car for a moment, glanced at him concernedly. Anton pulled his sleeve up. The Dark Mark was pulsing on his arm, like a snake was really living on the scarred flesh. He told the driver to keep going, and pulled his sleeve back down.

Outside, he started noticing cloaked figures on the street. All their eyes were on the car. They were left behind of course, as they too couldn't apparate, but before long Anton would spot more cloaked figures on the streets ahead, and his arm would pulse again, and they would look around, right at the car. Berlin was too crowded with Death Eaters - and somehow, they were using his Dark Mark to track him.

He glanced sideways at the driver, who was clueless to it all. The poor man didn't realize that he likely had very little time left to live. Before long, they would be caught.

Anton's mind raced as he looked ahead, eyes scanning every face, trying to spot Death Eaters before his arm pulsed next.

Was there any chance of him not dying today?

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Peter hurried through the corridor, grinning maniacally, almost skipping along. In his arms he carried a box of his mother's homemade Cauldron Cakes, having arrived by owl that morning. She must have sent it days ago, making Peter feel doubly lucky that it had come before he was on the train. This way, he had it all to himself.

It was unfortunate that he wouldn't be with everyone for breakfast, but, as he looked down at the box with a giddy expression, his stomach rumbling as he caught a whiff of the cakes, he decided it was worth it.

Peter slowed as he reached a corridor lined with empty classrooms. He was panting a little, and he could hear James and Sirius in his ear telling him that he didn't _really _need these cakes, did he? He shrugged their voices away. Peter could not hold himself to the high standards of his friends - he simply wasn't as good as them.

He shouldered open a classroom door, opened the lid of the box, and closed his eyes as the cakes' delicious scents began to tickle his nostrils.

"Oh!"

His eyes opened wide, and he hid the box behind his back.

"Peter." It was Marlene. She was sitting on a desk, holding a stack of parchment. Her eyes and cheeks were wet, and she wiped them hastily. "Hi!"

Peter turned on his heel and walked back.

"No, no, you don't need to go," she called.

He paused, and looked at her uncomfortably. "I don't want to interrupt you."

"Nonsense," she said, laughing and waving a hand. She hopped off the desk and sniffed. It was a bubbly sniff, and Peter almost lost his appetite. "Have you had breakfast?"

"No."

"Perfect! Let's go grab some."

He should have said yes. "It will have finished by now."

"Nonsense, we should still have another fifteen or so minutes to scoff something down! What do you say?"

Peter wrinkled his nose, trying not to curse. He scuffed his shoes against the ground. "Well… alright."

"Alright!" Marlene smiled brightly and took his arm, marched him from the room. He held the box against his side with his other arm. "What's that you've got there?"

"Books."

"Were you coming here to read them?"

"Yes."

"Aw." She looked at him proudly. Peter found that kind of patronising. "Good for you, Pete."

"Thanks."

She was quiet for a short while then, and they walked through corridors and down the stairs in a stifled silence. Eventually she looked sideways at him, with an expression indicating that she was chewing on her words. "Back there, I wasn't crying."

"No," said Peter quickly. "No, I know you weren't."

"Okay."

Peter nodded, hoping she'd stay quiet now. He was sure this was the longest he'd ever been alone with Marlene.

"I'm getting married after Christmas," she blurted.

Peter grimaced. "You… what?"

"I've decided to push up my wedding. You know I'm engaged, right? To Will Ärger. He's great. I just didn't see the point in waiting, you know?"

"Sure," said Peter carefully. He really wished he'd chosen a different classroom. He cursed his approachable features and subdued nature - he was simply too good a confidante. "And…" He hesitated, wondering if it might be better to simply leave it. "And you haven't factored Sirius into your considerations at all?"

Her expression darkened. "Why would I?"

"I have no clue," said Peter immediately. "I-" He laughed. "I haven't the slightest clue."

"But don't tell him."

"I won't."

"Good."

They descended the stairs to the first floor, the Great Hall almost in sight.

"I can't stop you from telling him, obviously," Marlene added. "If you do tell him, I can't be mad."

"I won't."

"You can, if you want."

"Well, I won't."

"Good," she said after a moment, nodding. Then, "But if you do tell him though, make sure you mention that I didn't even, how did you say it? Factor him into my considerations."

"Not to worry," said Peter. "I won't tell him."

She hesitated again, then nodded. "Good."

They reached the Great Hall, and Peter came to a stop. "Hey, I think I dropped a, um, a book back there. I'll go run up and get it, alright?"

"Okay," she said, offering a smile as they parted. He turned and started running back up the stairs. "Peter," Marlene called. He looked down at her. "Remember, it's just between us, okay?"

"Okay," he called back.

"Unless you really have to tell someone, in which case I can't fault you."

"Okay," he yelled, as he continued running up the stairs. He reached the second floor and wiped his brow, then looked at the box in his hands. He opened the lid a crack, peered inside at the glistening cakes. The smells, oh, the smells. Bugger it all, he'd just eat it all right here in the corridor. He opened the lid all the way-

Sniffle.

Peter looked around. In the corridor with him, sitting on the floor and leaning against a wall, was a Ravenclaw girl, no older than third year. Her head was in her hands, her shoulders heaving.

Peter looked from the box, the cakes and the icing, to the crying little girl. Back to the box. Then the girl. He knew exactly what his friends would do.

He threw his head back and groaned, then shuffled towards her, gently prodded her shoulder. "You alright?"

She looked up, her face red and messy. She wiped her nose with her sleeve and shook her head slightly. "Severus Snape called me a- a filthy little mudblood."

"Oh." Peter waved a hand. "He does that from time to time."

Her little features screwed, and she put her head back in her hands, shoulders working up and down again.

Peter looked up at the ceiling and scrunched his nose, sighing. Then he put a hand to the wall and lowered himself to the floor, sinking like a stone through mud. When his bum was on the ground, he leaned against the wall, huffed. The two sat side by side for a few minutes. When her sobs subsided a little, he spoke softly. "What's your name?"

She looked up again, sniffing. "Lizzy."

"Lizzy," he said. "Do you know why Snape called you that?"

"Because I'm a- a Muggle-born," she hiccuped.

"No," said Peter. "Snape doesn't know the blood purity of every single student in the castle. People like Snape only use hurtful slurs like that because they know that this," he gestured widely at her, "is what they're rewarded with. People like Snape get kicks from seeing their actions hurt others. It's sick."

She tilted her head. "What makes them different from everyone else?"

Peter hesitated. "I'll be honest, I don't know. Maybe all of us are like that. Deep down, maybe. At least partly."

"I can maybe think of times where I said something to hurt someone," the girl offered.

"I think we all have," said Peter, feeling relieved. "Some people are just weak."

"You think I'm weak?"

"Not the vicitms, Lizzy. The people who say it."

"Oh."

"With people like Snape, there's a large part of themselves that they hate. It's only natural that nastiness follows."

"So what stops us from being like Snape?"

Peter bit his lip, looking at the ground. "The people around us, I think. They make us better. Or they can make us worse, I guess. Things like the way we're raised, the friends we have, they all influence our choices."

"And our choices define who we are."

Peter glanced at her quickly. "Yeah, they do."

"Dumbledore said so in his speech last night,"

"Oh." Peter relaxed, assured that Lizzy didn't already have more emotional maturity than him. "Right."

Lizzy sniffled again. "How many more people like Snape do you think will call me that again?"

"Many," said Peter without thinking.

Her eyes closed, and she seemed to be struggling to control her breath.

"Here," Peter said quickly. Not hesitating, he opened his box and offered it to her.

The iced Cauldron Cakes gleamed out of the box, winking in the lamplight. He knew exactly when the smell reached her nose, for she opened her eyes and looked at them with hunger on her face. "Are you sure?" she asked.

"Of course," he said. Doubt was quickly seeping in, and he hoped she'd take one before he changed his mind and closed the box. They were _his_, after all.

Her stomach rumbled and she colored quickly. "I haven't had breakfast," she explained. Carefully, she picked up one Cauldron Cake and bit into it. Peter watched carefully as she closed her eyes and bliss crossed her face. Within seconds she finished the whole thing. "That was so good! Oh my goodness!"

Peter smiled and closed the lid. "I'm glad you-"

Her stomach rumbled again, and her face grew the darkest shade of red Peter had seen on a person's features. She stood quickly. "I should go to breakfast."

"It will be over by now," said Peter. His voice grew dead, and he looked at his box mournfully. "There's no point."

"Oh," she said.

He knew what he had to do. He was tempted to open the box, just for one last look at them, but that would be too painful. He held the box up and looked away. "Take it," he said.

"No, I couldn't-"

"Take the box, Lizzy, you're hungry."

"Th-thank you so much!" After a moment, the box left his hands, but he didn't see it. "Really, thank-"

"Make sure your bags are packed," Peter mumbled. "The train will be boarding soon."

She thanked him profusely again, and he offered a simple nod. Then she was off down the corridor, taking the delicious scent of those Cauldron Cakes with her.

Her day had been made, he was sure. His own stomach rumbled, and he leaned his head back against the wall again. Making the right choice was a pain in the arse.

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"Will you write me over break?" the girl asked.

Sirius didn't even know her name. He did up his belt buckle in the darkness of the broom closet, and didn't respond.

"Sirius?"

"Where's my shirt?" he asked quietly.

She rummaged on the ground for a moment and came back up with the loose fabric in hand. "Here. You didn't answer my question."

He took his shirt from her and slipped it on, started buttoning it. "What question?"

"I asked if you'll write to me over summer break."

Something was scratching his neck. He reached behind him, found her bra hanging from a mop handle. He handed it to her and opened the broom closet door. "No."

He stepped out into the corridor and closed the door behind him, then set off. Looking out the windows at the sun, he reckoned he'd wasted about half an hour with the girl. She'd fulfilled him physically, there was no doubt about that. But after achieving a brief euphoria, he had quickly grown disgusted with himself. That was no euphoria. It was a cheap thrill. A poor imitation of what sex was really supposed to feel like. Making love only provided him true ecstasy when being made to someone he loved. And he'd lost that.

A rapping on the nearest window distracted him from the bitter musings he'd grown overly familiar with recently. It was an owl, one of the school ones. He opened the window and let the bird flutter in and perch on his arm. He took a letter off its leg. The handwriting was eerily similar to his own, and he recognised it instantly.

_Uncle Alphard passed in his sleep last night. The will reading is tomorrow, but Mum's been told that you're the only one he mentions by name._

_Reg_

The owl swooped back out the window. After a few seconds, Sirius crumpled the letter in his fist. Then he stuck his fist outside and let go, watched the balled up letter plummet down the side of the castle. He turned from the window before it hit the ground.

The only family member with any positive meaning in his life had died. Sirius had known it was coming for some time, but that didn't take away from the sting. He wanted to curl into a ball, right in the middle of the corridor. But by now, Sirius was more than accustomed to not getting what he wanted.

He stalked through the corridors, furious at the world, furious at himself, at every little thing he could find a way to pin blame on. At the end of one corridor he saw a pudgy boy sitting on the floor and looking at the ceiling.

"Up you get, Pete," Sirius called. "We have a train to catch."

Peter groaned from the floor and started pushing himself up. "Marlene's set her wedding for January."

Sirius glowered as he helped Peter up, and they started walking together. "Bloody brilliant."

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Anton hurried through yet another Muggle home, wondering how many he would have broken into by the end of the day. He came out of a corridor, into the living room. Anton stepped towards the fireplace, and after pulling a brown bag filled with green powder from his pocket, he paused.

_Pulse_.

A searing pain in his arm, and he almost dropped the bag. The Dark Mark felt like it was writhing about on his arm. He didn't have much time. They were coming.

He lit the fire with his wand. Licked his lips. He had Floo'd a handful of times today already. Every time, he found peace for all of ten minutes before his arm would pulse again, the Death Eaters swarmed in again, and he would have to run again. As usual, it was his own fault for limiting the Floo network to only within this blasted country. There was no real escape. Not unless…

Anton turned, looked back towards the front door. Nothing yet. He closed his eyes, took a breath.

_-betrayal filled Caradoc's eyes moments before green light, he toppled, lifeless, hit the ground-_

Anton opened his eyes and placed the bag of Floo powder on the mantle above the fireplace. There was only one way to survive.

He held his left arm out, pulled the sleeve up past his bicep. The Dark Mark leered up at him, ugly, grotesque. He conjured a short piece of rope and tied it around his forearm, an inch below the elbow. Then he conjured a soft rubber ball, opened his mouth wide, and fit it in place between his tongue and his teeth. Finally he held his wand to his forearm, just before the point where the Dark Mark started. A nonverbal incantation, and a small white light glowed from the tip of his wand. He could feel the heat against the hairs on his arm. It was scorching, searing.

The door burst open, and he heard shouts, saw lights flash in the corridor.

He took a long, deep breath.

In one motion he swiped sharply, through flesh and bone, and Anton screamed as the limb was cut clean off. The smell of burned meat filled the air and his severed hand hit the ground, but Anton didn't notice. He stumbled, almost fell to his knees. He was biting down so hard the rubber ball was splitting in his mouth. Through teary eyes he could make out masked figures coming out of the corridor.

He managed to force himself to think. He reached for the bag on the mantle, threw the Floo powder into the fireplace and started falling into the flames just as the Death Eaters waved their wands.

Green engulfed him on all sides.

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The Hogwarts Express chugged past meadows and fields, making steady progress back to London.

James was still glaring at everyone in the compartment. "I can't believe," he started again, "that all of you ditched breakfast and left me with Frank and Alice."

"Oi," said Alice reproachfully, her head on her boyfriend's shoulder.

"You're both great," James said impatiently, "but I had to watch you two cuddle the whole time I ate!"

"I was there," Marlene pointed out.

"Yeah," James snorted, "after I finished."

"I was still there."

"I came eventually, too," said Remus.

"Too late," James grumbled.

"_I_ just wasn't hungry," said Lily brightly.

James scowled at her, but it quickly turned into a grudging grin. He couldn't help it, he was too excited. James still couldn't believe he was going to spend the entire summer living with Lily Evans. What in the world would the James of years past make of that?

He would faint, most likely.

The rest of the group had received the news with equal shock. Although that had quickly been followed by shrugs, and different iterations of, "Yeah, that makes sense."

Regardless, it was looking like quite possibly the greatest summer of James' life. Just Sirius, Lily, and himself. His best friend and the love of his life. What more could he ask for?

Sirius nudged him then, and tilted his head slightly towards the compartment door. Without pause, James nodded, and told the compartment that the two of them were off to fetch some sweets from the trolley lady to bring back for them all. After taking all their orders, the boys stepped outside and slid the compartment door shut behind them. They started walking down the aisle, skirting past other students between compartments.

"What's up?" James asked.

Sirius stopped walking, and James stopped with him. "My Uncle Al finally kicked it."

"Padfoot…" James was speechless. He stared at his friend, unsure how much more the boy could lose. He pulled Sirius in, hugged him, as tightly as he remembered his mother and father's hugs. As far as family went, James realized he was the closest thing left.

"I'm alright," Sirius said gruffly, clapping James' back.

James didn't let go. "No you're not."

"No." Sirius' voice cracked. "But I will be."

James pulled away then, but kept a hand on his shoulder. "How did it happen?"

"In his sleep. The will reading is tomorrow, and from the sounds of it he didn't leave anything for anyone else in the family."

James' eyebrows rose high. "That could be a ridiculous amount of money."

"Yeah." Sirius' voice had settled. "Depending on how it goes tomorrow, I might go out and find my own place. My own money, and home. I think it will be good for me."

James wrinkled his nose.

"I know how you feel about that," Sirius added, laughing a little. "But I'm doing it."

James sighed, and gave his friend a sad smile. "I think it's for the best too. And you know you always have a home with me, should you ever get bored."

"I know," he said. James nodded, clapped Sirius on the shoulder. Then Sirius offered a sly smile. "You know, this means that it'll just be you and Evans. For the whole summer."

James froze. "Oh. Merlin's beard, Evans is going to think I planned this."

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At King's Cross Station, each student met with their families, and off they went.

For the first time, Lily had no one to meet. No Mum or Dad. Not even Petunia and Vernon, though that was no fault of theirs. She wasn't going to live with them.

She turned, as Alice, Frank, Marlene, Peter, and Remus all went their own ways, to look at James. He, too, was looking around the station, and the unnerved look on his face told her she had made the correct choice. They were in the very same boat, and they deserved to have each other.

"Straight to yours, then?" she asked, holding her suitcase aloft.

He nodded, eyes still scanning each face around the station, looking for people they both knew weren't there. Sirius appeared on his other side, a portion of James' uneasiness on his own face.

He nudged James and winked at Lily. "I'll see you guys there."

James nodded, Lily smiled, and with a _pop_, Sirius disapparated. Lily turned to James then. He didn't seem sure what to do. She held out a hand to him, getting his attention. He gazed at her hand, looking lost. "Shall we?" she asked.

His eyes flicked up to her face, and the lost expression was replaced by something that made Lily's heart warm. Admiration? Reverence? Even… _love_? She would never get over the way he looked at her.

"We shall," he said, taking her hand.

There was one last moment of looking around. No one else at the station was there for them. They had only each other in that moment.

Then they spun, felt the world press in on them as their bodies were squeezed through space, distorted, contorted, and suddenly it stopped.

_Pop_.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

**A/N: We are officially at the halfway point of the story! That's right, this story will have 60 chapters. All the work I just did? I now have to do it again. Great. No, that does not mean I will drag a will they/won't they with James and Lily all the way to chapter 60. In fact, we're actually getting quite close to the moment we've all been waiting for. Should I be writing this? Probably not. But I can just edit this out when I post the next chapter and you'll all be none the wiser. My point is, the story will actually go right up to the last day of seventh year, and a bit beyond that. No, I will not write all the way past seventh year. In my experience, Marauder era stories have a very short shelf life after James and Lily get together. [DELETED] chapters after that are as much as I can milk it before I fear you'll all get bored, so we end at 60.**

**Before starting the next chapter, I will be going back through these 30 and ironing out any typos, polishing the sentences, and fixing inconsistencies (like House-elf vs house elf, third year vs Third Year, Apparate vs apparate). The wait, then, before the next chapter might be a little while. Feel free to bomb me with reviews in the meantime! It's a surefire way to get me to hack away at my keyboard. I expect the next few chapters will be some of the most fun I've had writing, and I hope you all enjoy it just as much. ****To give you an idea of what I'm talking about, next chapter you can expect: Jily supermarket shopping, magic seafaring pirates, were-wolf hunting, and more of the PREWETT BROTHERS (did you like them? I hope you did). Yes, that is all in one chapter. I really do amaze myself.**

**I'm-not-joking-please-review-I'm-so-insecure**


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